


Percy Jackson and that time Poseidon Grounded Him on Midgard

by LadyVisenya



Series: pjo x mcu [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Marvel Cinematic Universe Fusion, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gen, bc i want to stay true to these dumbasses that went from, luke is loki, percy and annabeth do not get together in this part, percy jackson is thor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:00:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 34,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24593413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyVisenya/pseuds/LadyVisenya
Summary: Percy Jackson has not been having the best week. Not even an okay week. There's been these frost giant attacks. Luke's coronation gets interrupted. He almost gets his friends killed in Jotunheim and to top it off, his dad exiles him to earth. Without powers!But it's fine.Like seriously.He'll laugh about this all with Luke someday.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Juniper/Grover Underwood, Luke Castellan & Percy Jackson, Percy Jackson & Grover Underwood
Series: pjo x mcu [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1385422
Comments: 50
Kudos: 46





	1. Luke Turns Percy's drink into an eel (brothers)

Percy looks over at his brother Luke, all decked out in regalia befitting the crown prince of Atlantis. Cape threaded with gold insignias of the royal family. Gold ceremonial armour sits atop rich red robes. He'd never be caught dead in the ostentatious armor. Gold was weak compared to the much heavier atlantian steel forged in the deep sea vents. 

Still, Luke painted a strong picture of the future of Atlantis. When he'll officially be appointed King. In a few hours. Not that he was ever not going to be. Luke is older, smarter, and magic comes as easy to him as breathing. 

There couldn't be someone better. 

Percy drains his goblet of mead, clasping him on the back hard. Grinning like mad when Luke winces. Luke could have his magic and the throne, but Percy would always choose charging into battle with riptide over all else. “Nervous brother?”

Luke rolls his eyes, the same easy confidence he'd grown into when father had named him head of the city guard radiating out from him. Gone was the quiet observant boy that had to stop Percy from charging in headfirst a thousand tons over into any fight. “Have you ever known me to be nervous?”

He laughs. Luke was not one to act unless he was damn sure of something. It took a lot to get a rise out of him. Their mother's temperament clearly. “How easy you forget our boyhood. And how long it took you to swim.” 

His brother smacks his chest in jest, as Percy continues. “Zoe used to joke your eyes were the color of shallow water.”

“-the only water I would swim in,” Luke finishes with a shake of his head. “But that was ages ago. It wasn't me making a fool out of myself in Nornheim.”

Percy can't help his gut reaction, choking on his own tongue. “No, no brother. That was the rush of battle,” he tries, bullshitting was hard when you were halfway to drunk. “The rush as I fought my way through a hundred warriors and pulled us out alive!”

He reaches out as a server passes by with a tray full of goblets, the clear liquid bubbling almost as much as the mouth of a volcano, his hand grasping one just as Zoe appears by his other side to smack his arm. 

“You and I remember things very differently,” she deadpans. Unlike most days, she dons a dress as brilliant as the night sky, blues and violets shifting with her movement. The only reminder of her rank in Atlantis’ army is the circlet of stars forming the legendary huntress Diana’s constellation. 

“Is that so,” Percy quips back, though he's never won against Zoe in a battle of wits or swords. Yet. 

Zoe shrugs, not deigning to reply. 

“And,” Luke adds, “might I mention who created the veil of smoke that eased our escape?”

“Illusions,” he mutters into his goblet, polishing the entire thing off once again. He could only bear court when he wasn't clear headed. Percy could never remember all the names of the nobles and dignitaries. “Nothing more.”

Luke's smile turns sharp as he waves his hand at Percy. 

The goblet in his hand turns slimy against his skin as it starts to wiggle about. Used to his brothers pranks, Percy let's it go. The goblet, now eel, clatters to the ground as the more squeamish attendees yelp, bumping into others as the bumble out of the way. He laughs easily. By Luke’s standards, this was nothing more than a harmless prank. 

Zoe sniggers into her hand. 

“Well at least I'd finished the wine,” Percy muses as the illusion finishes its course, returning to its goblet form. Before the grin returns to his lips, “my feathered friend,” he says, glancing at the finely carved bird feathers on Luke's boots. An embellishment that reflected the runes that had been carved to help Luke be swifter and faster as well. 

Luke finally shrugs Percy off, arching a brow up at him, “you don't want to start this again Hippocampus?” 

“How was I too know mom was actually serious that time? She's always threatening with turning me into a creature.”

“Only because you keep sneaking into the kitchen to steal all the blueberry pastries,” Zoe notes, having helped him sneak into the kitchens as children. 

“I was being serious,” Percy protests. 

Luke smiles with fond exasperation, “you're incapable of taking things seriously.” 

Percy swallows hard. Was that all he would ever be? The spare. Never measuring up to his golden brother. 

Unable to prove himself on the battlefield without a war to wage. 

He glances down at the floor, chewing on the side of his mouth as a strange bitterness seeps into his throat that has nothing to do with Luke. His brother was better suited to rule. It had never been that.

Percy wasn’t sure who he was supposed to be. Luke had a clear future ahead of him but him. . .

But-Percy grins, his smile full or mirth. “I think one serious brother is enough for this family,” he jokes at Luke, who shakes his head.

“Tyson and Triton,” Luke asks Zoe, “those oafs are never far behind where you two are concerned.”

“Don't act like you all don't get on,” Zoe replies, spying her mother behind Sally, entertaining those who came up to the queen, “Tritons saved your life dozens of times despite how often you make him slip on water.” 

Luke smiles into the brim of his cup, “we are a water rich kingdom. Hardly my fault.” 

“Well they've already decided that the feasts going on in town are more interesting than the mind numbing conversations going on here. And I have to agree. Though I'm sure they'll be here in time for the ceremony. Now if you'll excuse me my princes,” she inclines her head, an acknowledgement of their status before she cuts her way towards the queen's retinue. 

This time, it's Luke that reaches for him. Despite their differences, they were close enough in age that they had spent most of their lives together. Learning, growing and occasionally being punished for the trouble they could cause when they put their minds together. 

“And what, may I ask, has you sulking like a toddler brother?”

Percy smiles over at Luke. His hair pulled back, gleaming like polished gold. If he felt any discomfort in his attire, he hid it well. Percy could never get used to the feel of the blue velvet doublet his state robes were sewn in. The blue of the deep waters that surrounded the shining city. The leather still chafed from never having been broken in. He missed his usual linens and the supple leather cuirass plate that had molded to his body. 

“It's just,” he takes a deep breath, pulling the sleeves of his doublet down, “I've looked forward to this day as long as you have. You're my brother and my best friend and though I doubt I say it enough, I love you.”

Luke smiles warmly, pulling him tightly into a one armed hug. “I don't doubt it brother. Never. Yours is not the love I've ever lacked.”

Percy frowns. Luke has the people’s love. Their military’s respect, and a way with nobles. Not to mention he dominated Sally’s time by virtue of them both being well versed in magic. He couldn’t even change the color of water if his life depended on it. 

He isn't sure what Luke means so he lets it go. 

“Thank you,” he adds lamely after a beat too long. He's never had great timing. 

“No,” Luke chastises, with a smirk, “I should thank you for being born second.”

“Don't be an ass. Save that for when you're king.” Percy laughs, unable to imagine himself taking on the role of king. Luke was always sure of himself. Confident. He was only ever comfortable with a sword in his hand, the warriors three at his side. 

His brother’s mouth straightens out at that.

  
  



	2. In which Percy is ready to take on the frost giants by himself

Percy goes to take his place by his mother's side as the throne hall fills with nobles from all the realms. Even a midgardian delegation from the Nova Empire. Sally looks radiant as ever, her own dress the delicate color of seafoam. She hugs Percy easily as he takes his place. 

“Have you been drinking,” she frowns, smoothing out his dark hair. 

“It’s a celebration isn’t it,” he jokes, before adding, “Luke was on my case as well.”

“Now that your brother is going to be king,” Sally tells him, her hand on his arm as she smiles and waves at the crowd, all of them on their toes, anticipating the coronation. Their eyes searching for Luke. “He’s going to need you now more than ever. Who else can he rely on but his brother?”

“And I’ll be there to fight his battles so he can put his silver tongue to use,” Percy reassures her. As if Luke wasn’t the best warrior among them, never having lost a duel. 

“There’s more to being king than that,” Sally tells him. 

“A good thing I’m not going to be king then,” Percy replies. “I like travelling the nine realms with the warriors three.”

“Getting into trouble?” Sally raises her eyebrow. 

Percy blushes, “finding pets for old ladies and little kids. And yes, the occasional brawl.”

“Sometimes I think you’re too much like your father. Craving the rush of battle.”

He shrugs. “no other way to get ballads written about you. Too bad we’re in peace times. Even with the frost giants acting up again. If they really weren’t guilty,” Percy reasons, “why didn’t they send a delegation today?” He didn’t buy that the frost giants had attacked Vanaheim without Laufey’s say so. Much less that they dared to attack Atlantis without their king’s approval. 

Sally doesn’t frown. Too many people watching. But her lips do become drawn. “Things are tense. Your father thinks Laufey didn’t punish the intruders harshly enough.”

“Probably because he sent them,” Percy mutters under his breath.

“You don’t know that! And without proof. . .we can’t take action until we are sure.”

“Then they’ll just keep attacking,” Percy tells her. “They’re frost giants. Savages.” Poseidon should've already taken a troop of warriors and reminded Jotunheim what happens when they incur Atlantis’ wrath. 

“They’re not savages Percy. Their culture is different. That’s all,” Sally tries. 

“We can’t all be as understanding as you,” Percy says with a fond smile. He knows their stories well. The brutal way the frost giants had destroyed all life they came across in their attempts to conquer the nine realms. A far cry from the peace and prosperity Atlantis had insured for all their subjects. 

“Peace should never be taken for granted,” she sighs.

“Such a dreary topic on such a big day,” Poseidon comments, joining them on the dias, kissing his wife shamelessly even as Percy groans. 

Poseidon chuckles, “one day, when you find the right woman, you’ll understand.”

“Please,” he whines, “have a little bit of shame.” 

“Have some respect when talking to your king, Perseus.”

Percy grins broadly, “you won’t be able to milk that for much longer.”

Sally laughs at that, “he’s got you there my love.” 

Poseidon shakes his head at their antics. 

“Are you sure Luke is ready to take the throne,” his mother asks. It’s the first time Percy has ever heard anyone questions Luke’s birthright. His first instinct is to defend his brother. 

Poseidon frowns. “He thinks he is. I hope he’s right. It is not so easy to wear a crown. I find myself weary from so many centuries.”

Sally cups Poseidon's cheek, “You’ve put off resting for too long.”

“I’ve destroyed demons and monsters, devastated whole world’s, laid waste to entire kingdoms and still you worry for me?”

“Always,” she says solemnly. “Perhaps if I loved you less I would worry less. But. . .” She smiles. The entire throne room is packed to the brim with diplomats and citizens of the nine realms, and Sally only has eyes for Poseidon. It’s enough to make Percy want to stab his eyes out. They are, after all, his parents. 

“Well, Luke won’t be alone,” he tries to reassure them, “I’ll always be there for him. I’ve had his back for this long haven’t I.”

Any response is lost as the trumpets sound. 

Poseidon takes his seat on the throne of Atlantis for the last time. The gold crown on his head, clad in golden armour, the same armour he had fought legendary battles in. Sally moves to stand at his left hand side, taking her place by her husband’s side. She needs no crown, a born queen. 

Percy straightens his back. 

Zoe, Tyson and Triton make their way up the steps, their place at his side. “You’ve put on some armour,” he notes the chest plate and matching silver vambraces on her wrists, over her dress, as he catches Zoe’s gaze. 

“I am a warrior,” she retorts. 

Triton booms out a laugh, “I pity the man who would dare approach you.” His namesake triton in hand. Many foul beasts had met their deaths at its end. 

Zoe grins sharply, bow strapped to her back, a quiver full of atlantian steel arrows, “thankfully for them, I prefer the fairer sex.” 

Tyson, the smallest of the Nidavellir dwarves, shakes his head, trying not to smile too much. Hammer hanging off his belt. The same hammer he used to weld as well as to crush the skulls of his enemies. Triton had quickly stopped making fun of Tyson’s choice of weapon after seeing it in action.

“Hey,” Percy splutters, “I’m incredibly easy on the eyes.”

“Whatever makes you feel better my prince,” Zoe mocks him easily. 

The doors swing open, the sound of the crowd standing outside is deafening. Luke stands at the entrance, at attention, with the biggest smile on his lips. Earlier, he tried to play it cool, but it’s obvious how much he was looking forward to this day. 

Percy can only hope things don’t change between them too much. 

His brother lifts his sword backbiter, the very picture of a king, as he struts down the hallway to thunderous applause. 

Percy finds himself clapping along with the crowd. 

Watches as his brother kneels at the foot of the throne, all those steps below. His winged helmet the same golden color as his hair. There's a glint his blue eyes, the same glint the precedes mischief. Pranks that would have the guards chasing the two brothers all over the palace. 

Poseidon's voice booms out, “Gungnir, it’s aim is true. With it, I have protected Atlantis and the lives of the innocent across the nine realms since the time of the great beginning. And though the day has come for a new king to wield his weapon- the duty remains the same. Luke Jackson, my heir.” He stretches his hand out, pointing it at Luke, who stands up. Beaming as the day arrives when he is finally to be king. 

Percy looks over at the crowd, and feels no envy of Luke’s duty. Most days he can barely keep himself together. The responsibility of the nine realms. . .Luke is welcome to it. 

“Luke, so long entrusted with the mighty backbiter. Forged in the fires of Niflheim, from the sacred metal, celestial bronze. Only one who is worthy may wield it. Who wields this sword commands the skies, able to travel without the bifrost itself. As it was used to sever the gordian knot, it is a fit companion for a king. May you know when to cut through the knot, or untie it.”

A chill creeps down Percy’s spine, despite the warmth of the hall, despite being clad in thick ceremonial velvet made from the hide of a nemean lion. He can’t ignore his gut, his hand wrapping around the hilt of his own sword. Not nearly as legendary as backbiter, but it has served him well. And Percy likes that riptide will only ever be associated with him. 

He is ready for the worst. Poised for an attack. It’s his job to have his brother’s back. 

“Today,” Poseidon continues, “I entrust you with the greatest honor in all the nine realms. The sacred throne of Atlantis. I have sacrificed much to achieve peace. My firstborn, Amphitrite. The daughter who should have been your sister. So, too must a new generation sacrifice to maintain that peace. Responsibility, duty, honor. They are not simply values to which we should aspire to, but essential to every soldier. And to every king.”

“Is it just me or is the throne room very cold,” Triton observes quietly, his lips barely moving as they maintain their posture. Their regal stance as celebrated warriors, the best of the Atlantians. 

“Magic,” Zoe offers, unconvinced. She meets Percy’s gaze. Both of them were thinking along the same lines, something bad was about to happen. But neither of them was willing to voice the thought out loud, just in case they jinxed themselves. 

Percy really really hoped this bad feeling didn’t mean anything. 

His grip tightened around his sword hilt. 

“Luke Jackson, do you swear to guard the nine realms?”

“I swear,” Luke proclaims loudly. 

“Do you swear to preserve the peace?”

Luke nods solemnly, looking around the hall, around the people he is being charged to protect, “I swear.” 

“Do you swear to cast aside all selfish ambition and devote yourself only to the good of the nine realms?”

Luke swallows thickly. 

Being king demanded everything out of a man. Percy’s father had often been too busy for his family, consumed with keeping the peace, with protecting the realms. A king first and foremost. 

“I swear.”

“Then on this day, I, Poseidon Allfather, proclaim you-,”

Ice forms on the doors to the throne room. 

“Ice Giants,” his father realizes, sending them all into movement. The crowd hushes, fearful, as Poseidon cracks his spear against the ground, the resounding echo like an earthquake. 

“Ensure the safety of the people,” Percy commands the warriors three, joinging his father and Luke as they make their way into the palace. Poseidon making a beeline to the vaults underneath the palace. 

“Again,” Luke questions Poseidon. “So soon after the last attack?”

“They are becoming bolder,” Poseidon admits. “This fringe group. I am sure that the destroyer will have taken care of the trespassers.”

Percy frowns. “They never would have gotten so bold if we had retaliated after they attacked Vanaheim.”

His dad ignores him, striding into the vaults like the king he is, weapon in hand. Percy unseaths riptide, prepared to fight. The destroyer more than likely ended the trespassers lives, but he would be an idiot to run into the vaults, into danger, unarmed. 

Out of habit, having spent years at his brother's side, he falls into stance, pivoted out from Luke, trusting his brother to watch his back. Backbiter in Luke’s hand, raised and ready. 

Ice coats the entrance. Icicles forming on the ceiling as they make their way further inside. The lights have been snuffed out, leaving the room in darkness, only the glow Luke conjures up with a wave of his hand, provides any visibility. 

“Frost giants indeed,” Luke utters. 

The further in they step, the thicker the patches of ice become. Not the slippery clear of winter snows and storms, but an intense hue, as dark as the depths of the seas. The ice of Jotunheim. Signs of a fight coat the walls, where the frost giants sent their ice magic to snuff out the torches. The dead frozen bodies of the guards. Their skin blackened from frost. 

Most of the vaults remain closed. 

It doesn’t make any sense to Percy. 

Why would they risk so much, only to leave most of the treasures of Atlantis behind? Why not plunder all the vaults, all the rooms, while they were at it? 

Poseidon strikes the wall with his spear once, melting the ice from the torches. He strikes his spear against the walls once more, and the fires roar to life, illuminating the hallway. 

Luke extinguishes his conjured light, looking over at Percy as their father comes to a halt before the destroyer. A metal automaton that guards the vaults, activated in the presence of intruders. Built entirely from celestial bronze by a magician from their grandfather’s time, Daedalus. It gleamed in the firelight, standing taller than the dwarves. 

“At ease,” Poseidon commands, when he sees that the blue casket remains in place. Just one of the many treasures in the vaults. 

Percy has no idea what makes the glowing blue casket so important to the frost giants. It was the same blue as the frost giants themselves, but provided no warmth or chill. And, as it was in Atlantis’ vaults, it belonged to Atlantis. 

There were other legendary weapons that Percy would have gone for. The shield with a face so hideous it turned anyone who looked directly at it to stone. The helm of invisibility. Even the golden fleece that was said to give the wearer immunity from everything. 

“They were after the tesseract,” Luke says grimmly.

“I wonder how they knew it was here,” Poseidon thinks aloud. 

Luke rolls his eyes, “it doesn’t take a genius to guess that you keep the tesseract in the vaults of Atlantis.”

“They knew exactly what vault it was in,” Poseidon replies cuttingly. “It seems that I must talk to Laufey once more.”

“Talk,” Percy snorts, “You have already tried talking with those savages! Thrice now they’ve attacked us. And now they’ve taken lives. They must pay for what they have done!”

“They have paid,” Poseidon replies evenly, “with their lives. The destroyer has done its job. The tesseract is safe.”

“Crown me father,” Luke tries, “and I will treat with the Jotuns. I will put an end to these attacks.”

“Now is not the time to talk about coronations Luke,” their father states sharply, “Atlantians have died. I think it will be best if I deal with these attacks before passing the crown to you.”

“Really,” Luke presses, “what better way to prove to y-to our people that I will protect them then by protecting them.”

“A king does not have to prove anything to anyone,” Poseidon yells. 

Percy sheaths his sword, “why the tesseract? Why risk breaking the peace for this casket?”

Poseidon sighs, wearily, “The casket of ancient winters belongs to the Jotuns. They believe it is their birthright.”

“It is the weapon those monsters used to try and conquer the nine realms,” Luke adds. “If father had not taken it, they would've laid waste to the nine realms.”

“Then they have already broken the peace,” Percy utters darkly, his mind racing as he puts it together, “if they came for the tesseract, they mean to war with the nine realms once more.” The peace his father had fought for would end. People would die. People like the guards today. They had to act now.

“No,” Poseidon yells, silencing Percy. “I have a truce with the Jotun king.”

“Open your eyes dad! He’s already broken that truce.”

Poseidon shakes his head, “you would have me plunge us into war over the actions of a few.”

“I would have us strike first, remind the Jotuns who rules them before more blood is shed,” Percy yells back. “We should march into Jotunheim and teach them a lesson as you once did!” 

“You are young Perseus,” his dad sighs sadly, you do not know of what you speak. You think war is glory and songs. But war, real war not skirmishes, is everyone you know dying.”

Percy rolls his eyes. Wishing Luke was already king. Surely his brother would see reason. Would let Percy ride into Jotunheim and end this before it could ever begin. 

“And what would you do Luke,” Poseidon asks his heir. 

“I would talk with Laufey. Take some Jotuns as insurance that he will finally take the actions needed to stop these attacks.”

“Hostages,” their dad observes.

“We cannot be overly merciful when lives have been lost,” Luke says defensively. “I would not start a war but I would not have us be seen as weak. It invites more attacks.”

“Ah, my sons,” Poseiodn sighs, “A wise king never seeks out war-”

“But must always be ready for it,” both he and Luke parrot back, having heard the proverb a thousand times over. 

Percy rolls his eyes, not caring if Poseidon sees him, as his father takes his leave. He smashes an ice clump, kicking it savagely. 

Luke watches silently. Waiting for him. “Let father have his talks. When they fail, he will see that he should’ve listened to us.”

“And how many more lives will be lost by then!” 

Luke frowns.

Percy kicks more ice, sending it flying. It was a childish thing to do. But he was so frustrated. What did it matter how many hours of swordplay he’d put in, how he’d learned the bow no matter how many times Zoe had laughed at his poor aim, if he couldn't put those skills to use protecting Atlantis.

“Let’s go see how the warrior’s three held up. The crowd was massive,” Luke implores him. “Though I’m sure they did a wonderful job evacuating the people.”

He doesn’t particularly feel like it. Percy stops himself. Throwing a tantrum like a child helps no one. And surely their dad will realize Laufey is plotting against him. Will let Percy avenge their dead. 

He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back behind his ears. “At least Tyson and Triton will enjoy the food, if no one else will.”

Luke laughs, “my coronation will have to be ten times bigger now, to make up for the cancellation.”

“And what. . .make your ego even larger? Don’t know how the crown will fit your big fat head then.”

“Shut up Percy,” Luke smiles, before leading the way back up to the throne room. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this series (that i love writing) is back! by unpopular demand. . .or rather no demand at all. i really tried fleshing out the warriors three in this verse bc i felt like in the thor movies they are very forgettable. or at least not used very much.


	3. well intentioned trouble

Zoe stands up from the chair she’s taken, the first one to spot them, “what of the frost giants?”

“Dead. Destroyed.”

“Good.” 

Percy rolls his eyes, slumping into a chair by Triton. His bad mood following him around. At least he wasn’t a child anymore. Or else Atlantis would really be suffering from a storm. Luke had magic and flight and a silver tongue, the envy of all politicians, while he had to be mindful of causing storms and lightning. He’d definitely gotten the shorter end of the stick. 

“And they’ve cancelled the. . .festivities I take it,” Triton ventures to ask as Luke takes a seat, tearing a loaf of bread to small pieces but not bothering to eat any of it. 

“Well,” Tyson notes, “can’t waste all this good food. We’ll have to send the lion’s share to the city hearths.”

“Not going to try and eat it all,” Triton arches a brow.

“Did your parents teach you no manners Triton? Sharing is caring after all.”

Zoe laughs, biting into a pastry. 

“Do you hear this slander Percy,” Triton yells, clapping a hand on his shoulder, before crying out as his hand is shocked. The telltale crackle of electricity buzzing in Percy’s ear. 

“Percy,” Luke asks. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, averting his gaze from his friends, before laying his head on the empty plate in front of him, Luke’s portrait painted onto the porcelain. 

“It’s alright my friend,” Triton chuckles goodnaturedly, “keeps me on my toes.”

“I thought it was the ladies that keep you on your toes,” Zoe grins, bearing all her teeth. 

Tyson laughs. 

Percy envies how they’re able to ignore the looming threat of the frost giants. 

Luke moves closer to Percy, worry in his brow at Percy’s sulking. 

“Careful brother,” Percy manages through a clenched jaw, “it’s unwise to be in my company now brother.”

“Well,” Luke tries carefully, “I command the skies. And I command this storm to dissipate.”

Percy snorts. 

“If it’s any consolation,” Luke tries, “I think you’re right. My plan may have worked. . .but there’s been too many attacks. The first two were at our borders, luckily no one was hurt, but now, they were able to make it all the way to the heart of Atlantis. This time it wa just a few, who’s to say that next time it won’t be with an army.”

“Exactly,” Percy says, slamming his hand on the table. 

“But there’s nothing we can do without defying father.” Luke sighs, resting his chin against his palm, looking just as frustrated as Percy felt. Father had raised two warriors. Neither of them was good at sitting around and doing nothing. 

Besides, when they went to Jotunheim and solved this problem, dad would thank them. And Luke could be crowned. Then dad could finally rest like Sally wanted him too. 

But most importantly, Percy thought to himself, they didn’t need Poseidon to go to Jotunheim. Chiron could send them there as well through the bifrost. Luke might be able to travel through the realms via backbiter, but it would only carry him. But the bifrost. . .they would be back and victorious before Poseidon even knew they had left. 

“No,” Luke shakes his head, but a sly grin grown on his lips, “stop right there. I know that look.”

“It’s the only way to ensure the safety of our people.”

“It’s madness!”

Mouthful of apple pie, Triton asks, “what’s madness?”

“Nothing,” Luke waves away, “Percy was just being daft.”

“The safety of our realm isn’t a joke. We’re going to Jotunheim.” Chiron had a soft spot of Percy. He was sure of it. Why else would he have bothered to continue teaching Percy the way of the bow after Poseidon himself had given up. His favored weapon would always be the sword, but a warrior must know how to fight with all weapons. 

“What,” Tyson asks, astounded. 

Zoe pins Percy to his seat with her hunter’s gaze, “Percy, of all the laws of Atlantis, this is the one you must not break.”

“This isn’t like a journey to earth,” Tyson implores him, but Pecry can feel the idea solidifying in his brain, taking root, “where you summon a little lightning and the mortals all worship you as a god. This is Jotunheim. They have not forgotten their defeat at Poseidon's hands. Nor have they forgiven it.”

“And,” Triton adds, “if the frost giants don't kill you, your father will.”

“It is forbidden,” Zoe reiterates.

Percy stands up, ready to remind his friends who they were. The legendary warriors three. Their misadventures were known through all the realms. Their duels were legendary. Zoe had defeated dragons with charm alone. They were not green children, but battle ready warriors. And they would come home victorious. Percy would make sure of it. He would never lead his friends into danger they couldn’t handle. 

“My friends, have you forgotten all we’ve been through together! All the blood sweat and tears we’ve shed together. Triton, who was with you when you slayed the kraken?”

“You had my back,” Triton acknowledges with a broad grin. “As always.”

“And Zoe, who played bait when you hunted down the beast that was ravaging the mountains of atlantis?”

Zoe shakes her head, the smile evident on her well formed mouth, as she is swayed to Percy’s latest hare-brained scheme. “You did.” 

“And Tyson,” he grins, Percy already anticipating the fight, itching to get going, itching to finish this, “and who vouched for you when everyone said a dwarf could never be an Atlantean warrior? Who convinced Chiron to train you despite the naysayers?”

Tyson smiles fondly, “You did.”

“My friends,” Percy tells them, planning their trip in his head, battle strategies quickly forming, “trust me now. We must do this. I would trust no one else to have me and my brother's back.”

“My brother’s and I-,” Triton teases. 

“What,” Luke asks, raising a brow. “I don’t remember volunteering for this.”

“But you are coming,” Percy states. 

“Of course,” Luke responds, “I would never let my baby brother march into Jotunheim alone. I will be by your side. Always.”

“As will I!”

“Well,” Zoe grins, “So will I!”

“Together then,” Tyson sighs resigned to being dragged into trouble. 

“Don’t be so grim,” Triton teases Tyson, “at worst we die.”

“That's the spirit,” Percy laughs.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> annabeth is 90% of percy's self control so he's starting a war since he hasnt met her yet lmao


	4. we played at war with wooden swords

Percy mounts the winged horse blackjack. Riding at the forefront as the mastermind of this plan. They ride out of the palace, out of the city, their cloaks obscuring the armour they all wear, a far cry from the festive wear. 

He’s glad not to be stuffed into state robes. Finally free and comfortable in his own skin. The urge to straighten his robes gone. Light leather armour over his trousers and navy blue shirt. The silver chest plate and forearm braces capping off his usual armour. Fitted to his style of fighting. Fast. Adaptable. Riptide at his waist.

Percy did not toy with his enemies. 

But knocked them to the ground. 

They crossed the prism bridge, catching the light, turning every shade of the rainbow. The bifrost that let them travel to and from the nine realms. It ensured the unity of the realms. Reaching all the way out, over the deep blue waters, to the walkway between worlds. The post Chiron guards. 

Percy dismounts, sending the horse out to the countryside, covering his tracks in case his parents wonder where he is. 

Luke glances over at Percy, “how the devil are we supposed to get past Chiron?”

“Guess we turn back now,” Tyson mutters under his breath. “Too bad.”

“Luke,” Zoe notes, “didn’t Chrion. . .wasn’t he your first teacher?”

Luke nods stiffly. 

Percy knew that his brother was still annoyed that their dad had left Luke’s sword skills to Chiron, while teaching Percy himself. He didn’t get what the problem was when Luke was the superior swordsman. It was to him, of little consequence all these centuries later. 

“Guess you’re up then my king,” Triton jokes. 

Luke rolls his eyes but walks up to Chiron confidently. 

“You’re all not dressed warmly enough.”

“Excuse me,” Percy croaks. This was it. This was as far as they got. Chiron already knew their plans and surely he’d already let Poseidon know. Any moment now the Atleantean guards would seize them and lock them up in the palace until Poseidon was in a more forgiving mood. 

“Chiron,” Luke sighs, “will you let us pass? We only seek answers. Not war. That’s why it’s just the five of us.”

Chiron stands up on his four legs, to his full height. Percy’s gaze flickers down to the man’s horse half, dark brown chestnut fu, before traveling up to his face. An ornate silver helm with figurative horns sticking out to the sides, graced his head. 

He had once been used to the sight of the centaur, but Chiron much preferred the far estates and quiet of the watchtower than the hustle and bustle of the city. 

“For ages I have guarded Atlantis and kept it safe from all those who would do her harm. In all that time, never has an enemy slipped my watch. . .until now. I wish to know how that happened.”

Percy swallows thickly before replying, “then tell no one where we have gone until we return.” Then summoning his courage, he walks past his old teacher, and into the watchtower. Nervousness starts to creep up on him then. Jotunheim is the one realm he has never been to. 

While Poseidon subdued the realm, there has been no free flow of travel and trade from Jotunheim to the other realms. 

He really hopes he knows what he’s doing. Surely, the Jotuns cannot be that fearsome if the peace has stretched on for this long? They’re probably all bark and no bite. Right? 

The others follow inside. 

Chiron unseaths a massive sword, easily as tall as Sally, maybe even his own height. “Be warned. I will honor my oath to protect this realm as it’s gatekeeper. If your return threatens the safety of Atlantis,the Bifrost will remain closed to you. You’ll be left to die in the cold wastes of Jotunheim.”

“I am your future king,” Luke states, sounding a bit like a petulant child. It is only the severity of the situation setting in that keeps Percy from laughing at his brother. 

“You have been warned,” is all Chiron states, before inserting the sword into the control panel. The gears start turning. A thousand worlds pass by, too quickly to be more than a flash of light, before settling on Jotunheim. 

“Couldn’t you just leave the bifrost open for us,” Triton asks. 

“To leave the bifrost open would unleash its full power on Jotunheim and destroy it.”

Percy shoves his anxiety down. They had come too far to turn back now. 

He steps through the portal. 

Percy’s first impression of Jotunheim is that it is dark. Dark and terribly cold even through the layers of clothes he is wearing. As far as the eye can see there is only ice. And the ice is nothing like the winter’s of Atlantis, when snowflakes fall and yule trees are decorated. Nothing like the familiar waters of Atlantis he easily bends to his will. Percy can't sense the water here, even in its frozen state. 

It is as desolate as the stories said. 

An eerie silence pervades the land. 

There’s no sounds of wildlife. 

Percy wonders what the frost giants eat. Usually there would at least be some animal scurrying about. 

“We shouldn’t be here,” Zoe mutters darkly, looking drawn and taunt, ready for battle. Her bow in hand, as she glances around their surroundings, looking for any threat. 

Monolithic ice buildings make up the skyline. But they are as dark as the rest of the planet. Probably long since abandoned. Nothing at all like the city of Atlantis, or even the low tech midgardians. There were no signs of life. 

It was not just the cold that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. There was something. . .unnerving and sad about a place this empty. Percy hadn’t expected to feel sad as he looked around. 

It would be awful to grow up here. 

“So where exactly do we start,” Luke asks aloud.

Percy shrugs. He’d expected there to be someone. . .but so far there has been nothing. No where to start. 

“We should keep moving or else find shelter in this weather,” Tyson points out. 

“Shelter would be good,” Triton notes, “we can plan from there.” 

“I hate to say it,” Luke voices, “but Triton’s right. We need a base so we can observe our enemy. Gauge their strengths and weaknesses from a distance.” 

“The world truly has frozen over then,” Zoe jokes, but it falls flat in this miserable realm. And the longer they look around, carefully making their way through the landscape, the more the cold seeps in. Wind battering them about, cutting as sharply as knives through their jackets. Through their armour. 

Percy wishes he had his velvet tunic on now. Nothing as warm as a lion’s hide. 

“We did not come here to hide in a cave,” Percy encourages them, ‘we came here to act. Let’s just find some frost giants and start asking questions!”

“And if there’s a horde of them,” Luke asks.

“We have our weapons do we not,” Percy shrugs, before frowning, “if it comes to that.” Which it would. The Jotun were not friendly. And cruel. They left their children to die when the baby wasn’t to their liking. When they warred, they killed soldiers and civilians the same. 

There was no honor in that. 

“He just wants to swing his sword,” Zoe mutters under her breath, keeping to the rear of the group, as their best archer. Their best long range fighter. Triton at her side to watch her back. 

“Where are they,” Triton wonders, tired of walking. Colder than he’s ever been in his life. And wanting to get it over with. 

“Hiding,” Percy utters, “it’s what cowards always do.”

“Lets try those caves,” Tyson points, “if we don’t find anyone, at least we’ll have some shelter.”

“I think that’s not a cave but a building,” Luke notes, his eyes glazing around the landscape. What had seemed like caves a handful of leagues ago were now crumbling buildings made of ice. The remnants of a city. 

They had not bothered rebuilding when Poseidon had defeated them last. 

Zoe tilts her chin out, her eyes trained on the shadows. Burning red eyes stare out from the shadows. They’re surrounded. 

Tyson and Triton pivot outwards. The group forming a loose circle face out, out at the enemy. Percy’s hand goes to his hilt, ready to fight. 

“What is your business here asgardian,” a voice, like the cracking of ice melting, calls out.

“I speak only to your king,” Percy calls out, “not to his foot soldiers.”

“Then speak,” a voice bellows out from above the cave entrance, from a crevice. All that’s left of a second story balcony, cast in shadows. A small throne and a frost giant with blazing eyes sitting upon it. If the Jotun King Laufey was all they could see, Percy would have thought he was king of a mighty empire not a tundra. He was king of a frozen wasteland and little else. 

A poor king. 

Poseidon would never let his people sink to these depths. 

“I am Laufey, king of this realm.”

“And I am-,” Percy starts. 

“We all know who you are, Perseus Jackson. Why have you brought the stench of your blood into my world?”

Percy summons his courage, “I demand answers for you peoples attack on Vanaheim and Atlantis!”

“You demand,” Laufey scoffs. 

“How did your people get into Atlantis,” Percy asks, not budging. 

“The house of Odin is full of traitors.”

It’s with a sinking feeling in his stomach that Percy yells back, “So you were aware of these attacks if not behind them. You’ve broken the truce and lied to my father.” The intruders had known exactly which vault to look in. But who. . .Percy could think of no one among his friends and family who would betray them to these. . .to the frost giants. 

It just didn’t make any sense. 

“Your father is a murderer and a thief. He stole what was ours, and left our world in ruins. We have the right to reclaim our casket.”

Percy narrows his eyes. His dad was none of those things. “Not when you’d use it to make war against the other realms.” 

“And why have you come here,” Laufey asks, mockingly, “To make peace? You long for battle. You crave it. I see you for what you are Percy Jackson. Nothing but a boy trying to prove himself a man.”

“This boy has tired of your mockery,” Percy roars, taking a step forward, knuckles white around the hilt of his blade. Ready for the fight. Laufey had just admitted to breaking the truce. He had the right of it. 

Luke’s arm stops him, as the sentries close in, stepping out from the shadows. Towering blue frost giants, their skin covered in strange markings. Spears tipped in ice in their hands. 

Luke hissing in his ear, “Percy. Stop and think. We’re outnumbered. Know when to cut your losses. We have what we came for: answers.”

Percy clenches his jaw. 

“You should listen to your brother. You know not what your actions would unleash.” The frost giant rises from his broken throne, barely more than a slab of ice molded into a chair. Taller than the frost giants surrounding them. “But I do. Go now. . .while I still allow it.”

Percy feels rooted to the spot. To tense to think. It could also just be the cold. It hadn’t been so bad while they were moving, but now, standing out here in the open, Percy felt like an ice cube. 

“We will accept your most gracious offer,” Luke smiles charmingly, despite the tension in the air, putting his silver tongue to good use. 

Percy lets go of his sword hilt. Riptide would not see battle today. But soon, Poseidon would not take well to being lied to. 

Tyson lets out a breath of relief. “And Poseidon never has to know,” he whispers.

Percy turns his back on the Jotun king, ready to follow his friends back, away from these frost giants before calling for the bifrost. 

“Run back home little princesses.”

Luke snarls, his own hand going to his sword hilt. 

Percy catches his brother's gaze. They’re being baited, that much is obvious. He should shake his head, stop Luke the same way Luke stopped him, but Percy is the reckless brother. He unsheaths riptide, slashing the frost giant against the chest.

“Oh nine hells,” Zoe grumbles, notching an arrow as the group forms a circle once more, ready to fight, “here we go.”

The ice giants roar like an avalanche rumbling down a mountainside. Ice forms on their bodies in the shape of armour. Their magic, based in ice, gives them a tremendous omfield advantage. 

Percy can’t doubt himself now. Doubt leads to defeat and he isn’t about to get his friends killed just because he flinches at the crucial second. 

Two Jotuns run for him. 

It’s easy to parry, all muscle memory, raising his sword, dancing around them as he strikes easily at them. The length of his sword keeping them at bay. He minds their greater reach. The reach of their spears, before shattering the ice weapons with a well placed blow. 

He can’t help the wild grin on his lips, blood racing in his ears. 

It matters little that they reform their spears almost immediately, Percys’s already knocked them across the clearing. “Come on, at least make it a challenge,” he cries out. 

“Shut up Percy,” Zoe mutters through clenched teeth, letting loose an arrow. 

Percy turns, giving Zoe a wide grin. Big mistake. A Jotun lands a blow, sending him flying into the ruins of a building. 

Percy stands, shaking the ice off himself. “Now that's more like it!” immediately engaging the Jotuns around him. Deflecting their blows with the flat side of his blade, moving his feet, knocking them into each other as they all try to land another blow. 

It takes all his focus, all his energy and he doesn’t have to think. Just react. 

Tyson cries out from somewhere behind him and Percy doesn’t think, just sends riptide flying into the Jotuns, and runs back to his friends, tightening their circle, their range. Making sure all their backs are covered. 

A Jotun gets too close and Percy summons the water around him, urging it to shift states into liquid and knock his enemies down, but even the water on Jotun is strange, surging for a second before falling short and freezing once more. Just his luck, Percy thinks, ducking the Jotun's strike before sending him sliding across the slippery ice he's created a second layer. He'll work with what he has. 

Luke flies overhead, slashing at their spears faster than they can reform them, sending them flying back with the hilt of backbiter from Triton and Zoe. 

He calls riptide back to him, the sword ripping out from a Jotun’s chest and landing in the palm of his hand. Percy’s already striking with the sword before the Jotuns by him realize he has riptide back. “Ugly and stupid,” he yells, knocking another frost giant out with the flat of his blade. 

Triton raises his shield as the frost giants pelt him with shards of ice. The man roars, taking them at a run, slashing his namesake triton at them from behind his shield. 

“We need to get out of here,” Tyson yells, “we’re sitting ducks out here.”

No matter how good they were, even Percy had to admit they were simply outnumbered. And Laufey, he could see the king from his throne, eyes like molten rock, watching from above. 

“Fuck,” Triton yells, as a frost giant grabs his weapon with his bare hands freezing the steel and shattering the triton. He barely dodges the next attack with his shield. 

Zoe, ever prepared, tosses him a dagger, which was better than nothing. “Boys. . .I think it’s time to go.” 

“You think,” Luke calls back to her. 

Percy snarls, taking on three Jotuns at once. Never one to back down. He had to knock them down before they could reach for his friends.

“Percy, let’s go,” Luke yells, landing by Triton to cover the barely armed man. A dagger would do little when they had spears and swords. Tyson moves towards them, knocking Jotuns aside with his hammer, sending them sprawling into the ruins around them. 

He sighs, but follows his friends. He brought them here, now he was going to get them out. 

Percy takes the rear, taking care to keep any Jotuns from getting past him to his friends. But they don’t stop coming. 

Try as hard as he can, Percy can't keep a few from slipping through. 

This was really bad. Really fucking bad. If they didn't get clear of the Jotuns, Chiron wouldn't open the bifrost for them. 

He summons as much water as he senses, caution giving way to sheer bloody panic as they were slowly being beaten down. It's clumsy and uncontrolled, but the water answers his call the same way it has since his childhood blasting the frost giants away, but leaving him drenched in ice water. It's not enough. It's not nearly enough to get away. Still, “Chiron,” he calls out, desperation bleeding into his tone as Luke spars with a frost giant, keeping him away from Triton, creating an opening for Tyson to bash the Jotuns skull in. Zoe aims at the approaching Jotuns, but doesn't shoot, down to her last arrow. “Open the bifrost.” 

Nothing happens. 

The landscape remains as bleak as ever. 

Night, or day. Percy can't tell the difference. 

Woosh. 

An arrow flies past Percy's cheek, hitting a Jotun behind him perfect. Zoe's last arrow. She grips a matching dagger to the one she'd given Triton, in her hand. 

Percy looks around, trying to find an escape, but there's nothing. 

“Luke,” he yells, blocking a spear from splitting him right down the middle, “can you take them all?”

“No,” his brother answers, sparring with the Jotuns himself, managing to keep them from Triton and Zoe. “I can't take more than one at a time.”

A Jotun blocks, Luke's slash, trapping Luke in close to him. Luke tries to pull away, but the Jotun reaches out grabbing Luke by the wrist. 

Percy is too far to help. 

He sends out more waves, clearing the path as he runs to regroup with his friends, sweat forming on his brow. He wouldn't be able to summon any water again. Percy would be lucky to survive. They all would. 

Percy switches to a defensive stance, his back giant Tyson's. Hopefully shielding the other three as best as they were able to. 

“Never thought I'd see the day you tanked it out brother,” Luke grins despite the odds. Like Chiron, Luke fought defensively, tiring out his opponents while conserving energy, preferring to wait until he could strike quickly and deadly. 

“Lets just make it through this and then you can give me as much shit as you want.” He holds his stance. Gaze flitting around the jotuns surrounding them. 

They were falling back. 

It could be nothing good. 

“Percy,” Tyson whispers, “what do we do?”

He has no clue what to do. He's never faced a foe like this. And they're outnumbered. If they could get them away from the ice...but they're literally on an ice planet. Percy doesn't answer.

Light erupts from behind their group. A rainbow of color, bright enough to blind, driving the frost giants back. For real this time. Poseidon on his legendary horse, Pegasus. Spear in hand. 

Percy grins, raising riptide, feeling his spirit already rising once more, ready to wipe the floor with the frost giants. The terror chased away by the light. “Father, we can finish them together!”

Poseidon's gaze fixes on Laufey. “Silence,” is the only word he can offer Percy, heavy with disappointment. 

It's been ages since his dad was this upset with Percy. 

He's royally fucked up. Excuse the pun. These last few days have not been going well for him. 

“Allfather,” Laufey notes, walking up to Poseidon with confidence, “you look weary.” 

Poseidon ignores the bait. “Laufey. End this now.”

“Your boys sought this out.”

Poseidon takes it like the man he is. In damage control mode. Except this time Percy wasn't caught creating chaos in the kitchens of Atlantis, but starting a war. “You're right. These are the actions of a boy. Treat them as such. You and I can end this here and now. Before there's further bloodshed.”

Laufey smiles, as cruel as a winter storm, there's no warmth in it. “We are beyond diplomacy now. He'll get what he came for. War. And death.” 

Poseidon nods. “So be it.” Then raises his spear, channeling the raw power of the bifrost, sending the jotuns and their king flying back before taking off with Percy and his friends.

The bifrost itself reaches for him. And then he's flying back to Atlantis. 

  
  


“Do you even realize what you've done Perseus,” Poseidon calls out. The emotion in his voice is enough to send the warriors three and Chrion scampering off without a glance back. They would've taken the jotuns again rather than face the king's wrath. 

Only Luke stays with Percy. At his brother's side. Percy can't imagine ever being without his older brother. 

“I was protecting my home,” he tries, defensively. Unable and unwilling to admit he had been wrong, digging himself deeper into a hole of his own making. It was stupid for him not to fold now, but he had been right. 

Laufey has known about the attack. “Laufey admitted to the attacks! If you'd let me go with a whole legion-”

“You can't even protect your friends! How can you hope to win a war! To protect your home!”

“There won't be a kingdom to protect if you fail to act! We must teach the Jotuns to fear us once more or they will continue to attack us more and more viciously! Or else Luke’s reign will be spent subjugating Jotunheim once more!” Percy feels the anger flare inside him. He is supposed to be the warrior. Luke's sword and shield, but Poseidon continues to treat them both like children. Like they're nothing. 

He wants to meet the frost giants sword with mercy, mercy they will take as weakness and press their attacks all the more.

“That's pride and vanity talking,” Poseidon spits, “you've forgotten everything I've taught you.”

“While you wait, the nine realms laugh at us.The old ways are done. You'd stand there giving speeches while Atlantis falls.”

Poseidon snarls, having had enough of Percy, “you are a vain, greedy, cruel boy.”

Percy...well Percy doesn't know when to quit. Having dug his grave, he makes the tombstone as well. “And you are an old man and a fool!”

Poseidon closes his eyes, looking away from his son. “and I was wrong to think you were worthy of the power I've bestowed on you.”

Percy frowns, realizing too late, as hurt blooms on his father's face, that he'd gone too far. That he'd-he should've admitted he was wrong. To put all their lives in danger just for the sake of a quest. . .Of an adventure.

“Father, please,” Luke tries-

“We will talk later Luke,” Poseidon dismisses. 

“Perseus Jackson, you have betrayed the express command of your king.” His dad doesn’t meet his gaze. 

Percy is frozen, trying to catch his dad’s eyes, trying to . . .

“Through your arrogance and stupidity, you have opened these peaceful realms and innocent lives to the horror and desolation of war.” Poseidon stabs his spear into the control panel. The room lights up once more, gears spinning. 

His father marches towards him. Percy flinches, as his dad rips his chest plate off, starting with the emblem of Atlantis. “You are unworthy of this realm.” His dad pries the circlet from his hair, “unworthy of your title.”

Poseidon’s eyes are empty, his dad as remote as a black hole as he looks down at Percy, “unworthy of the loved ones you’ve betrayed.” There’s nothing Percy can say to defend himself. He’s at a loss for words for the first time in centuries. 

He glances over at Luke, his brother still holding his arm awkwardly where the Jotun had grabbed him with their cursed touch. 

His brother looks away. 

“I hereby,” Poseidon yells over the storm forming in the room, a tsunami of his father’s power, “take from you your powers!” Riptide is ripped from his side, landing in his dad’s hand. “In the name of my father,” wind rips the metal forearm guard, disintegrating it before his eyes. “And his father before,” Percy is left in his tunic and breeches. Nothing more than an ordinary Atlantian, and even that. . .”I cast you out.”

The words ring through his ears. Percy doesn’t have time to process, to plead, as he is thrown back, into the bifrost and exiled. 

He yells. He screams. For Poseidon to have mercy. For his mother to forgive him. For Luke. For his brother. Zoe who had the right of it after all. Triton and Tyson who might have died if not for his dad. 

It’s useless, the rush of light rips all breath from his lungs. 

Percy flails his arms as if to catch hold, of Atlantis, of anything to keep him from falling. Darkness clouds his vision. 

It’s a strange sensation, a pressure crushing his chest, pounding on his head as it sweeps him into unconsciousness. Travelling by bifrost has never felt like this before.

* * **

_ Whoso pulleth out the sword of this stone and anvil is the rightwise king.  _

_ And the god of storms.  _

  
  



	5. Larp-ing

Percy arches his back, stretching his back. His bed was much rougher than he remembered. Almost as bad as the camping his mother had forced their family to go on one summer. Sure it had been the hunting lodge’s backyard, but he preferred a bed to the ground. Percy smiles fondly at the memory, already thinking of how to tease Luke about it, when he opens his eyes to the harsh glare of-

Not the sun at all. 

But conjured lights. 

Oh gods, he thinks, slumping back into the ground. 

The memories come back to him. Of Jotunheim. Of being exiled. Fuck. He had been having a terrible week. Maybe the worst week of his life. But. . .they’d laugh about it. . .eventually. 

He uses his hand to cover his eyes, wondering which of the realms he’s been exiled to. Percy has friends in, well maybe not Jotunheim, but most realms. He’ll be fine. 

His hand reaches out, out for the familiar connection to riptide, calling his sword to his side. 

Nothing happens. 

Of course nothing happens. 

It just has not been his day at all. Sighing, and resigned to his dad’s latest idea for what passes as parenting, Percy gets up, ready for battle, or to find a friendly face. 

The lights stop breathes away from him. 

And . . .people dismount their. . .mechanical horse. 

Percy is one hundred percent sure he’d have remembered this realm if he’d ever been here. 

“What realm is this,” he calls out to the dark skinned man, two metal braces surrounding his exposed legs, and the red haired woman. The woman is almost as tall as the man, full figured, with a stack of paper in her arms. Seemingly puzzled at his appearance. 

Surely they had seen the bifrost send him here. 

She glances at the man with dreadlocks. Before her attention is caught by a small square apparatus. “The storm’s disappearing. Fast.”

The man glances at the woman once more, before settling on Percy with a friendly smile. “Get lost from your Larp group man?”

“There's a larp group in town,” the woman asks, looking up, and looking at Percy with interest.

“I’m sorry. Larp? What realm is this,” Percy asks again. Maybe he had managed to escape the bifrost and had now landed outside the nine realms. On a distant planet. 

But he wouldn’t know what to do until he knew where he was. 

“Realm,” the man asks puzzled, before his lips settle into a frown.

“Earth,” the woman offers kindly. “The planet earth.”

Earth. Midgard. It had changed a lot since he had last been here by the looks of it. People used to call him a god, now. . .

Percy sways where he stands, feeling lightheaded. It’s strange. As if the earth moves under him. A foreign sensation and he has to wonder if his dad used some curse as well, though magic isn’t his style. 

“Juniper,” the man hisses, “I think we should call someone. He’s obviously not well.”

What had Triton said? Summon a little lighting and dazzle the mortals. Percy could work with that. Midgardians loved him. He'd call for rain from the heavens. 

He raises his hands to the sky and calls on the moitsure in the air to form thick dark clouds and release their water back down to earth. Nothing happens. 

“So how wasted are you exactly. . .” the man asks, arching a brow, clearly unimpressed. 

Percy frowns, pouting as he wonders what's wrong. “Performance issues,” he jokes, before raising a fist. He could just imagine Poseidon’s laugh as he watched his son fail about. This was not going to be a fun lesson. Taking away riptide was already a step too far in Percy’s book. And just when Jotunheim had declared war on Atlantis to boot. 

So not his day. “Father! Mom! Luke! Someone!” Where was Luke. He was sure that his brother would’ve at least been here when he woke up. Luke wouldn't just abandon him. Would risk his father’s wrath for him. He was sure of it. 

“He’s clearly wasted,” the man shrugs as the woman shushes him. 

“Grover,” Juniper says pointed out the remnants of the bifrost on the soil. The marks of the bifrost etched as it appeared. It’s power leaving it’s mark. “Look.” She takes out another large block, light flashing from it as she points it at the ground. 

Midgardians. They were so oblivious to the magic and greater universe. 

“I have to move fast before anything changes. Soil samples,” Juniper says breathlessly, taking more images of the ground, of the markings. “Light readings, everything.” She hurries about, in a deep ochre jumpsuit, big blobs of wood dangling from her ears. Rather odd choices in jewelry. 

It seemed the midgardians had moved on from gems and gold, left bone far behind. 

The man, Grover, gaze does not stray from Percy, “shouldn’t we take him to a hospital. He needs help Juniper.” 

Junipers big doe eyes look over at Percy, who still can’t seem to find his footing. Poseidon might as well be causing an earthquake. And his head hurts. 

He has the sinking suspicion that his dad went a step further than just exiling him, but is putting him through some ridiculous labors. Like being mortal. 

Or at least as weak as a mortal. 

No Jackson has ever been a mortal. 

The very thought was ridiculous. 

“Later,” Juniper waves off, taking out another device. 

Grover takes that as his cue to focus his attention on Percy. “Hey man, what’s up? Can you tell me your name? Have anyone I can call?”

Percy rolls his eyes. Whatever their ignorance, Midgrdians were often predisposed to hospitality. The dwarves would have struck him down by now. Or called Atlantean reinforcements. “I’m not a kid. My name is Perseus Jackson. But only my dad calls me Perseus. Everyone else just calls me Percy.”

Grover pulls a bewildered face, “like the greek hero? Son of Poseidon.”

He can’t help but frown. His dad was renowned for being. . .well the fucking king. The king of the gods. The allfather. And Luke, God of the skies, as crafty as the north wind. The future king. The knew exactly who they were. What their purpose was. 

But Percy. 

Was he-he didn’t want to be the second son forever. He wanted something in his own right, but Percy wasn’t sure what that thing is.

“Or from norse myths of atlantis. The city people are still trying to find,” Juniper adds, while bottling up samples of soil into little glass jars. “Same myth. Slightly different name. I think the romans might have introduced the norse to Perseus?”

Percy laughs, remembering the vikings of old, and falls to the ground, more tired than he’s felt in a thousand years. Their women, their men, both fierce warriors, and passionate people. But the greeks were unmatched in their food. Fertile soil. Luke preferred the greeks for their long winded arguments and philosophy. 

The wind carries away the remnants of the bifrost. At least for now, it looked like Percy would have to stay put. 

Luke would come. 

As annoying as Percy found Luke ruffling his hair, and teasing him for being younger, Luke would never leave his little brother to fend for himself for long. Especially not in this weakened state. 

“Ah midgardians,” he smiles into the night sky, “you haven’t change at all. Well” he steals a glance at the mechanical ride. It wasn’t far off from a spacecraft. “Maybe a little.” He’d have heard if the Midgardians were truly capable of interstellar travel. 

“Midgardians,” Grover frowns,” are you a myth-o-magic larp-er.”

“Still don’t know what a larper is.”

“Man,” Grover chuckles, “you’re the one wearing a tunic, not me. Percy.”

Percy shrugs helplessly. It was true that their clothes were vastly different. But it wasn’t his fault his dad hadn’t though of that little detail. Or hadn’t cared to. Did all Midgardian’s heads hurt this much? Or was it from traveling through the bifrost. 

“Come on Percy,” Grover finally says, holding out his hand, “let’s get you in the car and you can tell me who to call.”

“Shit,” Juniper says, stopping on the ground. “It’s all gone.” The markings on the ground have faded away. Not an indication left they had ever been there to begin with. 

Percy takes Grover’s hand, chuckling when the other man stubbles a bit as Percy pulls himself up again. It was good to know he wasn’t the weakest midgardian. He somehow stumbles his way to their mount, Grover opening the mechanical beast, revealing a seat. 

Percy slumps into the vinyl covered cushion.The inside of the transportation machine is also covered in paper, books, and devices much like the ones Juniper is still holding up to the sky, demanding answers from the stars, her frown growing with each passing minute. “What is this thing called,” Percy asks, patting the space next to him. “This beast.” He adds for clarification.

“How drunk are you,” Grover asks, amused, “or did you take something more fun. I’m weed friendly. It’s actually how I met Juniper. She was selling weed to put herself through grad school. I was still doing security for Chase Industries offices in SF.”

Percy does not follow. At all. 

He feels really dumb actually. 

“What is the name of this. . .”

Grover laughs, “it’s called a car. Duh.” 

Percy nods. “My head hurts.”

“I need to know what you took, or how much you drank,” Grover asks seriously. “I can take care of you, but I have to know what you’re on. I’ve done the same for my boss. . .friend. She’s both. But she doesn’t get drunk anymore.”

He nods aimlessly, looking up at the ceiling. There’s little tufts of stuffing stuck to it. But mostly the ceiling of the . . .car is covered in green paint. With streaks of pink and purple that seem like flowers if he squints his eyes. “‘M not inebriated. . .just,” he waves his hand. “Feeling a little out of it.” He could’ve at least chosen Aflheim. The light elves at least understood about the universe at large.

The dark skinned man smiles indulgently, “sure man.” 

Percy closes his eyes, resting his head against the seat. 

Juniper opens the front door. “It’s all gone. I’m going to hope I got enough data to do any analysis. No clue how I’m going to be able to apply for another grant without anything to show for it.”

Grover takes a seat besides Percy. 

He could still take him. Even in this mortal state. Percy is trained. Has centuries of built up strength to fall back on. It’s a confronting thought, in this alien world. He lets himself drift off to sleep.

  
  



	6. the morning after

Gabe is driving home from his early morning shift. Not the graveyard shift mind you. He wasn’t that fucked. When he spots a crater on the side of the road. The small roads in Las Piedras, New Mexico, the roads he knew by heart. 

There had been no crater there yesterday. Or when he drove by at four in the morning. 

Having nothing better to do. 

No family to go home to. 

Or even his mother who never bothered calling him anymore. Who had run off to live with his sister in Vegas. . .he pulled his truck over. 

Left the keys in his truck, and carefully made his way down to the center of the crater. 

A fucking sword. And not some boring rusty thing, the sorry excuses for swords that museums hung up. As if anyone wanted to see a rusted away hunk of metal. The sharp part had words etched onto its side. Old characters from some language that Gabe didn’t much care for. 

He guessed some old fart with glasses would pay a small fortune for this sword. 

Gabe wrapped his hands around the hilt, the soft leather like butter under his skin, and pulled, pulled hard. Putting his back into it. 

And nothing. 

The sword didn’t give at all. 

He took out his phone and called his friend. “Chet,” Gabe spoke into his cellphone, “bring a pack of beer. You are not going to believe what I found. Oh, and bring some of the boys with you too. I think five dollars sounds about right.”

** **

Percy wakes up, smushed into a small bed. His foot dangles off the edge, blanket lying on the floor. The room is red, like the dust of the midgardian dessert last night. Shit. He’s still here. 

Carefully, he tries, “Luke. . .you here yet brother.” Nothing. Not even a snake slithers around his throat. His brother’s second favorite prank. Next to sending people tumbling into the many waters of Atlantis. 

It was a good thing Percy could hold his breath for over an hour. 

Reluctantly, he gets up, taking stock of the glass of water on the table. A few pieces of fruit next to it. He eagarly bites into the green ones, pulling a face at the tangy taste as the juice explodes into his mouth. 

He runs a hand through his thick locks of hair, trying to smooth them down from the tangles griffins nest it had formed. A mangled mess. Worse than the gordian knot. Percy wishes he’d tried to learn a spell or two. Not that magic would work for him now even if he knew it. 

When it’s passable, he follows the sound of people talking animatedly down the hall. It’s a small home. The same dusty red as the landscape outside. Plants take up every sun filled spot, and even the adjacent places. The surfaces are covered with instruments displaying various readings. The walls are covered with charts. And Grover knitting by Juniper's chair, cross legged on the floor. A screen displaying a . . .play. Some sort of play. 

Juniper scribbles on paper, glancing up at her screen every other second. Her flame colored hair escaping the thick braid. “-Hades should definitely have a higher rating. He’s the god of the dead! And it’s besides the point anyway.” She reaches for a pile of almonds. “If I could just. . .but all the readings. . .the storm must have disrupted the readings. I keep plugging in the numbers but the calculations don’t work out.”

Grover nods, showing he’s listening, “you need an assistant.”

“Don’t have the money for one,” Juniper replies back easily. “Besides. Once I figure out these. . .last nights readings I’ll be able to publish. Just because I don’t understand what it means doesn’t mean anything. Lots of scientific discoveries started because a particle or cell behaved unexpectedly. I mean think of light itself. Both a wave and particle!”

“I could ask Annie to swing by,” Grover quips, “you could be nerds together.”

“Theres a ocean of difference between engineering and astro physics,” she shakes her head, typing something onto another screen. 

Percy clears his throat. 

“You’re up,’ Juniper smiles. “Was starting to worry.” 

“No she wasn’t,” Grover shakes his head, looking up from his own project, “she’d probably forgotten all about you. Too busy with her stars.” 

“Space is the next frontier!”

“Hey! You stole that from star trek!” 

Juniper ignored him, fixing her chestnut eyes on Percy, “remember where you are now?”

“Midgard,” he nods, feeling like a sore thumb, sticking out as he stands awkwardly in the middle of the room. 

Juniper laughs, “you can just call it earth.”

“And you say you’re not a larp-er,” Grover grins. 

“I’ll have to send the soil samples to a lab for analysis. Professor Foster owes me for all the grunt work I did for her.” Juniper stands up, going to another table, searching through a pile of papers. 

“Take a seat Percy,” Grover says kindly, “know who I can call to pick you up now.”

Percy smiles bashfully, sitting on a couch that had stuffing peeking out of the fabric. It was a little warm for his long tunic, now that the sun had risen. “Yes, but I doubt you could reach any of them. Or they’d reply back.”

“Oh yeah, “Grover grins back at the challenge. “Try me. My boss is Iron Woman.”

Percy tilts his head at the name. Maybe it was a name for another of his kind. A name given to an Atlantean by the humans. Percy wasn’t the god of water after all. It was just summoning water that came easiest to him. 

“You don’t know who Iron Woman is,” Grover shouts incredously. “Oh man, do I have some videos to show you! There’s even a video game now. We can play if you want to.”

The man’s smile is infectious. Percy finds himself nodding along, letting Grover talk a hundred kilometers an hour as he passes Percy a remote, turning yet another screen on. Juniper is buried in her work. And Grover settles into explaining the remote to Percy, then showing him a video of another mechanical beast, in the shape of a human, flying through the skies. Midgard had changed. 

All before wiping the floor with him on the video game. 

Percy frowns. 

Grover jumps up in delight. Before glancing over at Percy, “don’t worry. You’ll get the hang of it. Another round?”

He nods, selecting a different avatar for their next round. 

This. . .screen fighting was vastly different from the real thing. Grover’s punny form, Percy wasn’t sure how he was a guard to anything, was not an obstacle. 

“You can choose Iron woman next round,” Grover offers, pouring them both coffee with generous portions of milk. 

“Naw,” Percy grins, selecting the blue and red colored warrior, a circular shield strapped to his arm. He knew how shields worked. Not mechanical suits. 

“So who do I call,” Grover asks, as the game loads. 

“Poseidon,” Percy smiles slyly, already knowing Grover won’t believe him. On midgard, all his people, his family, his home, were nothing but myths. Stories they told their children. The same way Sally had once told him and Luke about Poseidon’s battles, the frost giants, the legendary valkyries who rode proudly to valhalla after securing peace across the realms with their leader, his sister, Amphitrite. The sister he’d never met. “Or you could try Luke.”

“Ha ha,” Grover laughs, his gaze fixed on the screen, “very funny. At least you can poke fun of it. With a name like that.”

“I’m serious. Though I’m sure Zoe Nightshade would say I’m never serious.” Percy blocks on screen the Iron Woman’s missile with his shield. Instead of attacking, he follow’s Luke’s style and waits for Grover to waste all his weapons. 

“Zoe Nightshade,” Grover questions, his brows rising to his hairline. “Like the myth. Dragonslayer. Ate a golden apple of immortality. Or did she give someone a golden apple. I just remember the dragons and immortality part. Juniper’s the nerd.”

Percy laughs. “Zoe would never ever hurt Ladon. The dragon. And they were hardly apples. But gold medallions forged by the light elves. A wedding present. Long life, not immortality.”

Grover’s hands still, as he turns to give Percy a long look. 

He shrugs in response, meeting Grover’s searching gaze evenly. He was telling the truth. He had no reason to lie. Juniper seemed to be aware of the bifrost even if she could not name the way he had arrived on earth. Luke would have called Percy naive. 

But Percy figured you had to trust people if you wanted them to trust and help you. 

And Grover and Juniper had been so nice to him this far. 

They had brought him into their home. 

Juniper pops up in front of the screen, in front of the television, in front of the tv. “I called Dr. Selvig at the Santa Fe observatory. They did pick up some readings. But since they weren’t looking for anything, and it wasn’t a long storm, they wrote it off. He said he’d send me a copy of their findings. See if I can extrapolate anything from them. But i think I captured an Einstein-rosen bridge. From the images I was able to get before the storm cleared.”

Grover doesn’t look away from Percy. “Juniper. This man thinks he’s really Perseus Jackson. Like the god.”

Percy can’t help the wide grin that forms on his teeth. 

Juniper looks over at him too, as if he’s one of her readings. One of her samples to analyze. “Really? Most crazy people think they’re jesus.”

“Junnie, I’m being serious.”

“Don’t call me Junnie.” Juniper hisses, resting her hands on her hips. “How did you get out there, in the middle of the night?”

“The bifrost,” Percy replies easily, “the storm you observed.”

“Juniper,” Grover rolls his eyes, “don’t tell me you believe this crazy. . .and can I just say. . .ridiculously good looking man!”

“Thank you Grover,” Percy laughs. “But I doubt your girlfriend would like it if we went down that road.”

Red rises to Grovers features. 

Juniper shrugs. He realizes that she’s half a head taller than Grover. Everything is more prominent in the daylight. His vision must be dulled down to mortal status as well. “Occam’s razor. The simplest explanation is true. Even if we think it’s crazy. Or at least until we can find a better explanation.”

“Okay say it’s true,” Grover starts. 

Percy leans back to watch the argument in amusement. Mortals. “It is,” he says with loads of smugness. He was a god after all. A prince of Atlantis. The smugness was earned. 

Grover glares at him, “if it’s true. Why can’t you. . .I don’t know. . .summon a little rain.”

Percy holds out his hands uselessly, “I’m being punished for my father.”

“Why,” Juniper asks at the same time as Grover mutters, “convenient.”

“Might have started a war. With the frost giants. It wouldn’t have happened if Poseidon had just listened and let me take our troops. I’d have smashed Laufey’s throne. Or what’s left of it.”

“Okay,” Juniper pauses, before shoving images of the bifrost from last night in front of his face, “can you explain why this storm-how this storm showed up. I’m hypothesizing some kind of Einstein-rosen bridge. But it doesn explain why it appears and disappears without rhyme or reason.”

“I’m going to need more proof.” Grover grumbles. 

Juniper lightly smacks his arm. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll let it go for now. But what’s an Einstein-rosen bridge.”

“A wormhole,” Juniper explains eagerly, her entire face lighting up as if she’d swallowed stardust. “A theoretical connection between two points in space-time. Think of space and time as the x and y axis. Not completely separate entities.”

She points to another image, before huffing, and shoving everything off the coffee table, including the empty coffee mugs. “Look here. These stars,” her voice gets higher as her excitement builds, “they aren’t our stars. We’re looking at stars from a different place in our universe.”

“Atlantis,” Percy supplies. He can’t put names to the constellations, but he does recognize them. Anyone who's been to space can just tell their own night stars, even if they don’t know every star’s name. 

Juniper opens up her device, “these are last nights skies.. . See! They don’t match.”

“So you did get something,” Grover says breathlessly. 

She nods with a big smile, “Yeah. I got something. . .something big.”

“The bifrost. Chiron controls it. The power of it is too massive if not contained. It could destroy all the nine realms.” Percy casually explains, forcing himself not to burst out laughing at both their skeptical expressions. They might have advanced in the past thousand years. But they still had a long way to go. 

“Sure,” Grover finally says, “And I’m James Bond.” He points savagely at the braces around both his knees. 

“Why do you,” Percy ventures to ask. 

“My legs were all messed up when I was born. I don’t need them most of the time,” Grover explains, but since I’m not running around on the job it's a good time to wear them. Make sure everythings where it’s supposed to be. When I’m not on vacation I just wear them at night.”

He nods. 

Juniper swipes through more images, carefully zooming into the forming storm from last night. Scrunching her eyes as she searches through the images again. 

“I am telling you the truth Grover,” Percy tells the other man. “Do you have any more of the brown drink?”

“Coffee,” Grover asks. 

“Yes,” Percy grins, “it was delightful! More!”

“Not so sure giving a crazy person caffeine is a good idea,” Grover teases. 

“Can’t make me even crazier if I am crazy now can you?”

“Pretty sure that makes no sense either but I’ll go get us both more coffee.”

“Aha,” Juniper yells, having found what she was looking for. The image on screen is blocky. Barely comprehensible, but there, on the screen, is the image of a man amongst the space storm. Of Percy as he fell. She turns to Percy, dead serious as the mugs slip from Grover’s hands, smashing on the floor, “can I have a sample of your clothes?”

  
  



	7. mom and dad are f i g h t i n g

Sally bursts into Poesidon’s chambers. Her husband gazing out over the shining city he ruled. At night, the seas surrounding the city drew darker than the night skies. Lacking the burst of starlight and swaths of color from far off worlds. She takes a deep breath, bringing the sparks of lightning dancing around her arms under control. A gift from her light elf heritage.

Luke had run to tell her exactly what happened. She was sure he was still cooped up in her wing of the palace. Sulking. 

Her boys. 

One was never far from the other. 

She was glad they had grown up so finely, had grown close. They would need each other. Sally had always found it sad when siblings grew estranged. It often couldn’t be helped. Still. “How could you have done this,” she implores her husband harshly. Poseidon might be her husband, but a mother’s love has no limits. 

Percy could have killed the Jotun king himself and she’d still get on her knees and plead for his return. He was her son. She had already proven to her husband, her king, the lengths to which she would go to for Luke. He should have known better. 

Poseidon doesn’t flinch. “Do you understand what he’s done,” he retorts back just as sternly. “What he set in motion? He’s taken us to the brink of war!” 

“But banishment!” Honestly, Sally understood he needed a lesson. But there was an ocean of difference between banishment and her occasionally resorting to turning her sons in a horse or fish. “You would lose him forever? He is your son.” Percy had always had too much of Poseidon in him. His moods, raising the waves by meters. A born warrior. Devoted to his friends and family. Was it any wonder he had risked death to protect those he loved? However misguided the action. 

It was darkly ironic that it was that same streak Poseidon was punishing now.

“What would you have done,” Poseidon snarls, before pinching his nose bridge. While her husband's hair had long grown grey, in every other aspect he was the older version of her son. From their strong greek nose, and jaw, determination and passion clear in their sea green eyes. Neither knew how to hide their hearts. 

But that is why Poseidon had her. And why Percy had his brother. 

Her husband sighs, the weariness overcoming him once more. Like aging upon mortals. 

Sally does not falter, though her heart aches to see her husband in such a state. It is of his own doing. “I would not have exiled him to the world of mortals, stripped him of his powers, to suffer alone. I would not have the heart for such cruelty!” 

“That is why I am King!”

“Do not yell at your wife,” she snarls back. 

Poseidon backs down. “I too grieve for the loss of our son. But there are some things that even I cannot undo.” So he had used his power as king of the gods. Power like that, rooted deep into the core of Atlantis, not even Poseidon could break. 

“Then-,” she whispers, realizing there really is nothing to be done. Surely she could sneak the warriors three to Percy. Aid him in his journey. Keep him safe. Mortals were such fragile things. 

He nods, “his fate is in his own hands now.” 

** ***

They end up in a second hand shop. Well, Percy thinks as Grover hands him more clothes to try on so he doesn’t look like someone who just stepped out of a TV show, it could be worse. Humans for the most part seemed peaceful in this part of their planet. 

Juniper had run off to mail her samples at their post office, lacking the technology of teleportation. Or the magic to do so. Not that he could really knock them for it, he couldn’t do any magic. And now he was just as helpless as them. 

Only more so because everything was unfamiliar to him. 

He steps out of the fitting room. 

Grover frowns, “a little loose. How do you feel about belts. And I’m not sure the ripped jean thing works for me.” 

Percy looks in the mirror again. The shirt was a faded orange, with a strawberry farm advertisement. Not the shade of orange that hurt your eyes to stare at. But an earth-y tone. The dark jeans were ripped at the knees, loose enough to move in if a fight broke out. Not as supple as his own breeches. “The rips are fine.”

“Are you sure about that, your highness,” Grover jokes. 

He bounces on the soles of his feet, checking if the waist moves too much, but the jeans don’t slip down. “I think I’ll manage without a belt. Unless you have ones for swords.” Sooner or later he’d find riptide. 

That was probably his quest. 

Dad had taken his sword and wanted him to find it. Then he could go home. Simple, straightforward. Just like Poseidon. He wasn’t a man for riddles. Or complicated quests like the oracles of delphi. Luke reckoned they just like to take the piss out of people. Making things harder than they needed to be. 

“Nope. But it is New Mexico. We could get you a gun holster.”

Percy wrinkles his nose. “I’ll stick to blades.”

Grover laughs. “You can’t take a sword to a gunfight.”

“Not my sword,” Percy insists, as he helps Grover carry the new clothes for him to the til. Two more pairs of jeans, a rich indigo, and worn in. A handful of soft shirts with an assortment of images. A blue one emblazoned with a camp located in florida and a manatee. “It was forged in the heart of a dying star. From Celestial bronze.”

“And where is this sword now,” Grover asks, curiosity growing in his eyes as he takes out pieces of paper and pays the woman working. 

Percy shrugs, a bounce in his step as he steps out onto the main road of the small town. It was nice not to get so many strange looks. Now that he fit in. Still, some mortals' eyes gravitate towards him. He can’t help it. Percy is tall. His hair falls freely to his shoulders. And unpopular style for men on earth apparently. And he isn’t completely oblivious to his effect on others, no matter how much fun Triton takes at teasing him for his lack of a lovelife. “I think my dad wants me to find it.”

“And your dad is the king of the gods,” Grover repeats, making sure he’s keeping up. They were to meet Juniper at the diner next to the post office. He really hopes there’s coffee, even if it is making him more hyperactive than usual. 

Poseidon had ruffled his hair and called him rambunctious, saying proudly how Percy was itching to stab a frost giant. Sally had taken him to the healers and given him some tonic to help him focus. He had been seven. 

“Was it scary? Having the king as your dad.”

He shakes his head, “Dad was. . .well he was away a lot of the time. Keeping the peace. Battling invaders. But even at home he still has to rule. But when he could find time for us. . .it was nice. He’d teach me and Luke sword tricks. And tells us stories about grandfather. And his own campaigns. I think my favorite was when we would all go out into the sea. I always felt calm in the water. Right.” Luke felt the same way about the sky. When he flew.

“Atlantis. . .mermaids,” Grover nods to himself, “makes sense. Hey! You’re not a mermaid too are you?”

Percy bursts out laughing, “No! The seas are bountiful on Atlantis, but we are. . .well not merpeople. And not like you either. We Atlanteans are hardy; the magic that runs through our planet also runs through are veins. Ichor. It is a beautiful city! Unmatched in the universe. The mountains are vast, and the valleys have the most wonderful food. There is no shortage of adventure to be had.”

“You are still an alien though.” Grover quips back. “You think I could go?”

Percy nods, “of course my friend.” Grover and Juniper believed him. They had given him a roof and food. Grover had introduced him to more of the games he played on the TV. Juniper was bright, her understanding of the cosmos would have benefited from Tyson or Luke, but he was doing his best to explain what he knew to her. “As soon as I am able. We will drink in the halls of Atlantis, and sail to Olympus. I will teach you to ride the pegusi and hippocampi alike.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” his friend grins, clasping his shoulder as they step into the diner, taking the nearest empty booth to wait for juniper. 

“I’m sure Tyson will have lots to share with you about your. . .environment problem.”

“I hope so,” Grover replies, not even looking at the menu before he orders. “Hey, is it cool if I tell Annie about you? I think she’d be pretty excited to meet an alien. If she believes me. She caught me watching alien conspiracy videos on youtube one night and got me a x-files poster for my birthday.”

“I trust your judgement,” he replies, tapping his fingers against the counter, impatiently waiting for more coffee. 

Juniper slips into the seat next to Grover. 

Percy stares out at the blue horizon. It’s not as rich as a color as the waters around his home. But it is a beautiful sight. Mountain capped with snow in the far distance. Green sprinkled across the landscape. Breaking up the monotony of dessert and dessert rock.

He hopes Luke has gotten help for the wound on his arm. He’d hate for his brother to lose an arm to frostbite. 

“-sent my findings. Will probably take ages to hear back. Government is so slow at reading through grant proposals. But i’m very fucking hopeful.”

“Fingers crossed,” Grover smiles, sharing in his lovers delight, playing a kiss on her cheek.

Percy notes the man sitting at the counter, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. An older looking couple, probably younger than him, sharing a slice of pie. A man holding his daughter's hand, as he pays for food, all packaged up in a bag. 

It’s been three days. 

And so far. Nothing. 

It wasn’t the worst place in the cosmos. But still, Percy would rather be home. Helping with the war effort. He wanted to finish what he had started-no, what Laufey had started. Hadn’t he? Would the attacks have ceased when the Jotuns realized they would never get around the destroyer? 

Would more people die now? 

It had seemed so clear less than a week ago, the frost giants had started this war, but. . .they only wanted what was theirs. And sure, they hadn’t used it right, waging war across the cosmos. But without the power of the bifrost they would have been stuck on their desolate planet even with the tesseract. 

And after having seen the wasteland they called home. . .

He should have stayed his hand. Listened to his father instead of needlessly escalating a war. 

Percy felt like a child, so very young. But this mistake was not so easily rectified as the harmless sinking of a boat. Bad, but not terrible. 

Not this was war. 

He recalled how hopeless, the fear in his bones, as he realized how overwhelmed his group had been on Jotunheim. 

But how had the Jotuns known which vault? 

Could someone in their household really have betrayed them? And why? 

Juniper nudges his leg, startling percy out of his thoughts. 

“-thing wouldn't budge man. Sword was stuck in that stone. Zack broke a thick chain trying to pull with his truck. The really nice one he just bought new.”

The sole waitress, with the turtle shell glasses, and a double chin, rolls her eyes, “you’ve just been drinking too much. There’s no craters down route 71 Chet.”

“ ‘s true ma’am. I swear on my daddy’s grave.”

“Your dad ain’t dead Chet. And you damn well know that. Hell I know that.” The waitress shakes her head, finishing puting the dishes away, before opening a thick book up.  _ Great American Short Stories.  _

They all look at each other. 

It’s Juniper that says what they’re all thinking. “It’s gotta be your sword right?”

“Mere mortals couldn’t lift Riptide,” Percy says in agreement.

“Don’t be an ass,” Grover groans. “We mortals aren’t so bad. And besides. Who are you to judge us. You drool in your sleep.”

Percy gnuffs, protesting. 

“Let’s just go,” Juniper cuts in, placing a few bills on the table. “Hope I can still get some new samples.”

  
  



	8. luke alone

It’s been a month and his brother still isn’t home. Normally, Luke wouldn’t worry about his younger brother. While prone to recklessness, Percy was fully capable of taking care of himself. Poseidon had made sure of that, teaching Percy swordsmanship carefully. 

The thought still annoyed Luke, but he’d grown to be the better swordsman under chiron. And that was what really mattered. 

Still, it has been a month. 

He sighs. None of the warriors three miss a beat, Zoe glancing worriedly over at him. He was used to them being underfoot around the palace. While they didn’t live there, they were renown warriors and his friends as much as they were Percy’s. Zoe had trained with Chiron at the same time as he had. 

“We should never have let him go,” Tyson utters as he plays with gears, putting some sort of device together. As if anyone could have stopped Percy once he got an idea into his head. 

“There was no stopping him,” Zoe shakes her head, “it’s Percy.”

“At least he’s only banished,” Triton tries to cheer everyone up. He’s started by taking them all out drinking, and then trying to convince them to at least go stay in the country, away from Poseidon. “He’ll be back soon enough. It’s a good thing Chiron sold us out.”

Luke ignores them all. He was still trying to figure out how the frost giants had gotten into Atlantis, past Chiron. And none of this speculation helped. 

Zoe turns to look at him, her tanned skin and nut brown eyes, with the sharpness of a raptor, give him a very pointed look. “Luke, you’re the only one who can help Percy now. You must go to our King and convince him to change his mind!” And she really believed he could. If his father hadn’t listened to Sally, to mom, there was no way he’d listen to Luke. 

No. He had to stop the attacks. Then he could be crowned king. 

Only then could he bring his brother back. 

Fuck whatever his father had thought up as punishment now. 

Bring his brother back now. . .it wouldn’t help anyone. 

Luke couldn’t deal with Jotunheim and keep an eye on his brother. 

“You really think he’ll listen to me Zoe,” Luke asks, leaning back in his seat. “And if I do then what? I love Percy more dearly than any of you but. . .Laufey has been placated with my brother’s banishment. Bringing him back would only start a war. The last thing my father, the king, wants.” 

That shuts them all up. 

After their experience in that world, that awful place that would have been better razed to the ground, none of them wanted to go another round with the frost giants. Triton had another weapon forged, but his confidence as a warrior was shattered for the near future. 

“Can there really be traitors in the house of Poseidon,” Tyson whispers instead, glancing around the room for any listening ears. 

Luke frowns deeply. He can’t imagine being betrayed for the frost giants of all people. They were the monsters in children's stories. Go to sleep early or the frost giants will steal you away. Be good or the frost giants will eat you. 

Triton huffs, “must we speak about something so dark and ominous?”

Tyson shrugs, “the attacks will not cease until we find out how, or who, brought the Jotun’s into Atlantis.”

“You suspect they used magic,” Luke says, catching on. Which would mean someone from Sally’s household. But who could betray his mom? She was the kindest woman. 

Zoe straightens in her seat. “Luke, you must go to the Allfather with these suspicions. We must find out if there is a spy.”

“Laufey could just as easily have been lying,” Luke reasons, but his heart isn’t in it. It makes sense. How else could they have eluded Chiron’s gaze? “Trying to pit us against each other.”

“Do you really believe that,” she asks, raising a brow.

“No.” He stands up, ready to talk to his father for the first time since Percy’s banishment. Whatever Luke felt must be brushed aside, for the safety of the realm. 

He does mean to go to his father, gets as far as Poseidon’s wing of the palace, but he looks down at his wrist, the one the Jotun had touched. 

A frost giant’s touch was as frozen as the winds of their world, leaving frozen flesh behind and yet. . .he was fine. Luke had been ready to lose a hand, when he went down to the healing rooms to be looked over, and yet. . .not a trace of their cold touch. He swallows thickly, coming to a halt, running a hand over his wrist. 

For a second, his skin had grown as deep blue as the-

No. 

It must have been a trick, some Jotun magic. 

The cask of ancient winters. 

Luke wanted answers. 

So he goes down to the vaults. He is still a prince of Atlantis. The crown prince. The guards let him through easily and leave when he dismisses them. All too trusting. 

All too soon he’s left standing in front of the casket. Luke uses his magical learning to peel back, to reach out to the casket, letting its influence sneak its way up his hands, expecting to feel the sharp sting of ice. But it’s more of a creeping frost, chilling. Not burning. And watches in fascinating horror as his skin turns a deep blue hue. Just like the color of the Jotuns he had fought. 

He can hear the destroyer power on, but ignores it. 

Luke can’t stop, his blood growing cold as the color makes its way up his arms. Seeing but not believing, not daring to comprehend why the cask doesn’t hurt him. Why he had survived the Jotun’s touch when it had shattered Triton’s weapon with ease. 

There-there had to be an explanation for this. Some curse. . .his own power as the god of the skies. . .there had to be an explanation for this. 

Luke feels a fire roar to life at his back. The destroyer. 

“Stop,” Poseidon commands. 

He turns, watching as the destroyer obeys, stepping back into place in the wall. 

His father stands before him. Looking more tired than ever. A deep sadness in his sea green eyes, the same eyes his brother has, but there’s not a hint of surprise. 

A ball of anger forms in his throat alongside the confusion. “Am I cursed?”

“No. Let go of the casket.” 

Luke obeys his father, closing the distance between them. His father will fix this. There had to be a reasonable explanation for- 

“What am I,” he asks, his voice small. 

Poseidon’s gaze is steady when he replies, “You’re my son.”

Luke presses on. “What more than that?”

Poseidon looks down at his feet. 

It’s confirmation of the worst of his suspicions. Luke had been born around the time, around the end of the war with Jotunheim, or so his father said. And now this. . .”The casket wasn’t the only thing you took from Jotunheim that day, was it?”

Poseidon looks him in the eye. He can deny it no longer. Secrets are never buried forever. “No.”

Luke’s heart lurches in his chest. He already knew, but hearing it, Poseidon doesn’t even try to deny it. A wave of nausea and anger and confusion sweeps through him. He can’t make sense of any of it. 

All his life, a lie. 

His-no, not his father at all, rushes to explain, “In the aftermath of the battle, I went into a Jotun temple, and found a baby. Small for a frost giant offspring--abandoned, suffering, left to die. Laufey’s son.” 

Luke presses his hands to his face, rubbing his eyes, as if he can make it all go away. But he can’t. They’re past that now. And. . .and he was going to be king. Oh how the gods must be laughing at him. To think he really could be king of Atlantis, a frost giant himself. 

Fuck. 

He wishes they had never gone to Jotunheim. 

“Laufey’s son. . .” Had the king known, when their group had sought out war. Had Laufey set eyes on him and known? The anger wins out, like a gust of wind. Sweeping away the confusion for now.The hurt in his soul at having been lied to by those closest to him. His father. His mom. 

All this time. 

“Why,” Luke asks, “you were knee deep in Jotun blood. Why would you take me?”

“You were an innocent child,” Poseidon lies. He has to be lying. Kings don’t just, kings do nothing without an ulterior motive. Poseidon is a lot of things but selflessly kind if not one of them.

“You took me for a reason, what was it!”

“I thought we could unite our kingdoms one day. bring about an alliance, a permanent peace. . .through you. But those plans no longer matter. You are my son, my heir.”

Luke scoffs. “So I am no more than another stolen relic. Did you ever actually mean to give me the throne?”

Poseidon pinches his nose. “Why must you twist my words!”

“Don't act as if you haven't tied the throne of Atlantis to riptide! I'm not a fool. Father,” Luke spits. It all makes sense now. He never meant for Luke to really be king. He never meant for the lie to get this far. Percys exile provide the perfect excuse to give his true son the throne.

“Luke-”

“You could have told me from the beginning! Why didn't you?” Luke pleads, begs, a second wave of confusion ripping at everything he knows.

“You are my son. My blood. I wanted only to protect you from the truth.”

Luke laughs humorlessly, “Because I am the monster parents tell their children about at night?”

“Don't. . .”

“It all makes sense no. Why you favored Percy all these years.”

“Listen. . .”

“Because no matter how much you claim to love me, you could never have a frost giant sitting in the throne of Atlantis!”

“Listen to me,” Poseidon yells, taking a step towards him, staggering as he tries, Like moving away, as if struck. 

He was in no mood to deal with his father. Luke turns his back on Poseidon.

Poseidon falls to the floor, the allfather-sleep consuming him. 

Color drains from Lukes face. The anger brushed away. “Guards,” he yells. “Guards!” 

“Help me!” 

And his father sleeps on. 

He feels no satisfaction when they take the time to bow to him. If only they knew who Luke truly was. What he is. 

  
  



	9. the hawk has landed

Connor and Travis are driven through the New Mexico dessert. Driven because somehow, despite getting kicked out of UC Berkeley at age 19 for starting a little protest. And being troublemakers throughout most of their lives, they got through CIA and later, shield recruitment. So, score. 

Take that everyone who said they'd end up in prison. Connor looks over at his brother. 

“No wonder it took so long for us to hear about,” Travis waves his hand out the window. The hick town is as small as the hick town they came from. It's not even a town people drive through to get to another city. 

Connor shrugs, trying to ignore the fact that Katie hadn't texted him yet. He'd given her...well a number. Agents like him didn't really have much of a personal number, or personal life. 

“A sword in stone,” Travis laughs, “maybe it's just a disney PR stunt?”

“In bum fuck new mexico,” Connor raises an brow. 

“So you're going to try and lift it,” Travis asks.

“Hell yeah. Finally prove I'm the better brother,” Connor teases. 

Will Solace leans forward from the backseat he's currently trying to take a nap in. “Will you two shut up.” 

“Aww,” Travis asks with a shit eating grin, “did we wake you up from a nap? Didn't pre-med prepare you to run on four hours of sleep?”

Will rolls his eyes. “I'm preparing for a late night getting the situation under control. Instagram is a menace. You know how many people have already tried to upload selfies of the sword?”

“Tried being the key word,” Connor points out. Shields internet controls made china look like chumps. 

“And I'm sure you'll get something to shoot your . . .arrows at,” Travis adds. “before you're obsolete. I mean arrows? There's a whole ass superhero on the field now.”

Will leans back, ignoring them both. 

Connor can't help it. He laughs. “Guess you should've finished med school after all Will.”

“I did,” he grumbles. “I was a doctor by 24. But I forgot neither of you can read”

“Oof,” Travis laughs. 

“The director wants the site locked down by tonight,” Connor says, trying to get them back on track. “Her money's on alien tech.”

“So the government is covering up the existence of aliens after all,” Will comments thoughtfully. 

Travis nods. “Just not at Area 51.” 

There's a whole party going on when they arrive at the crater site. Tailgating. Drinking beers. Connor feels a little bad breaking it all up. But only a little bit. 

The sword doesn't move an inch when Connor tries it. It doesn't budge for Travis or Will either. So it's whatever. 

** ****** 

Sally sits by Poseidon’s bed. He looks at peace, at ease, for the first time in eons. Light bends around his form, space and time bending alongside him. The allfather sleeps. There’s tears in her eyes as she looks at her oldest son Luke, who has taken a seat besides her. 

The guards have been sent out of the room. 

Children always need their mother. Even when she doesn’t know how to fix any of it. Poseidon hadn’t informed her that he had tied riptide and the throne together. She closes her eyes and sighs. Of course he had fallen into allfather-sleep, leaving her to sort this mess out. 

The hurt was clear on her son’s features. All it did was press the hurt in further, convincing him that Poseidon did not love him for having been adopted. It would take time for Luke to heal from what he felt was a slight from his father.

Sally sighs, running her hand through her son’s sandy colored hair. “I asked him to be honest with you from the beginning. There should be no secrets in a family.”

“So why did he lie?”

“He kept the truth so that you would never feel different. I-I told him to keep his tales of Jotun and their people to a minimum, but you know your dad. Never could hold back from telling a good story about his campaigns.” Sally swallows, ignoring the lump in her throat. She wishes her son was a little boy again, and she could solve all his problemas with a hug and the promise of blueberry pancakes. “You are our family in every way, and you are our family.. You must know that Luke.” 

Luke is silent in thought, looking over at his dad. Lines form around his mouth, a small frown on his lips. 

“You can speak to him,” she reminds him. The last time Poseidon had slept, the boys had been too young to worry. “He can see and hear us, even now.”

“How long will it last?” Luke turns to her. 

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “It varies. And we were unprepared this time.”

Luke stands up, pacing the room, ‘I can’t get used to this. Seeing him like this. The most powerful being in all the nine realms lying helpless until his body is restored.”

“He’s put it off for so long,” she looks Luke in his watery blue eyes, “for you boys.” And now Percy is half way across the universe. “I fear. . .”

Luke takes her hand in his. Sally remembers when his hand was so small, he’d held onto her forefinger, her hand too large for his grasp. “You are a good son,” she tells him, because he needs to hear it. “Your father will awaken in time. And we mustn’t lose hope that Percy will return to us.”

“But,” Luke looks down, bashfully at his feet. “But the throne, what-where does that leave us?”

Sally squeezes his hand. “We will fix it when your father and brother are here with us.” Percy did not care for the throne. And he was. . .young, the crown would not suit him. It had been Luke that was raised to rule. Had spent the time learning how to keep peace in the realms. How to deal with nobles and politicians alike. 

Surely Poseidon would listen to reason. 

“I must go,” Luke finally says with great reluctance. “There is still the matter of how the intruders got in to solve.”

Sally nods. Then calls in the guards to take their place around the room. 

They bow before Luke, as they enter the room. 

Surprise is clear in his features, the widening of his eyes, as he looks from the guards to her. He’s been too busy thinking about everything that's going on to realize that with Poseidon asleep, the throne falls to him. “With Poseidon asleep. The throne of Atlantis falls to you.” 

The guards rise. 

“Make your father proud.” 

He’s just a boy. For all his training and how much Luke feels he is ready. It had never been more apparent that in that moment. 

Then he leaves and all Sally can do is hope her sons prove themselves to be the boys she raised, the men that she knows they can be.

** ***

Percy eats the most questionable looking rectangle shaped bread. . .but he is hungry. It might be the food on earth is not filling enough for an Atlantean, or a side effect of whatever joke his dad has thought to play on him as punishment. But he knows where Riptide is now. Soon he will be home and this will all be a bad dream. 

“I think those granola bars have been there since california,” Juniper notes, taking her eyes off the road. There are few mechanical transports, cars, on the long road out of town. “Like two years ago.”

“This mortal form grows weak,” he shrugs. They're not good by any stretch, but he doesn’t mind the dry taste. 

Grover snorts. “What I don’t get is how you can eat so much. You had two entire meals back at the diner.”

Percy shrugs. “Perhaps mortal food is weak like mortal forms.”

“Hey,” Juniper snipes, throwing him a dirty look. “You’re the guest on this planet.”

“My apologies Juniper,” Percy says, chuckling. “I simply think that my. . .that whatever lesson my dad is trying to play is taking its toll on me.”

“I still can’t believe, if its true,” Grover says, shaking his head, “that your dad, an all powerful god, just grounded you on earth. And I thought my mom was tough.”

Percy frowns. “I did almost start a war.” At least he hopes Poseidon and Luke were able to pacify the frost giants. Their planet was desolate. The last thing the Jotuns needed was another war. They need to rebuild. But Percy isn’t sure how to make that happen. 

Grover shakes his head. “This is insane. . .you’re-god this so freaky. And my friend flies around in a tin can!”

“Make love not war,” Juniper cries out the car window. “I was like. . .20-21 when all these antiwar protests were going on in New York. After I was kicked out of Columbia for inciting protests or whatever-and man, I really thought we wouldn’t go to war.” She turns around, taking her eyes off the road again, “War is dumb Percy. Don’t go to war.”

“The frost giants attacked us first,” Percy says defensively.

“Okay,” Juniper says, “but were they looking to kill you? Or like, whats the historical context?”

“The historical what,” Percy asks, confused. 

“Like. . .the history. Why were they attacking? What’s the story between Atlantis and Jotunheim?”

“Ah,” Percy smiles in understanding, “The Jotuns long ago tried to conquer the nine realms-”

“And your dad had already conquered them,” juniper asks. 

He shakes his head, “the nine realms welcomed Atlantis and its king.”

“Sounds like propaganda written by the winners,” Juniper singsonged. 

Percy frowns. 

Grover pats his shoulder, “she’s always like this. You should hear her and Katie.” 

He shakes his head, “the Jotuns were trying to destroy the nine realms with their tesseract. My father stopped them. Now they want it back and attacked not only us but Vanaheim. It was our duty to go and defend ourselves and allies. But. . .I think I failed and probably escalated things.” He should have let his father talk. Maybe offered them help? Maybe Poseidon should have helped them rebuild long ago so that now the jotuns and atlanteans could be friends and allies, or at least more friendly. He's so confused.

“And are the jotuns not also part of the nine realms,” Juniper adds. 

Percy slumps in his seat, grateful that this was to be Luke's headache.Except as his brother, these were concerns he should bring to Luke. “Okay. So maybe my father could have tried harder with the Jotuns.” Jotunheim was in ruins. Had not recovered since Poseidon had taken their casket of ancient winters. “But the frost giants are not-they eat babies!”

Juniper raises a brow, “is that true or just a story Percy.” There's no edge to her voice, just a yearning to know, much like Tyson. He misses his friends. 

Percy gazed out the window, admitting, “I don't know. That is what I was told.” But the ice giants-he had been expecting them to want war and revenge. But Laufey had given them a chance to leave in peace. He had known it would be a terrible world, but it was also depressing in its destruction. 

Juniper doesn't smile in triumph. “I know. It's hard. I mean I had no clue what happened with our trash until I looked into it and boy is it horrifying the way we treat our planet.”

“Can we please talk about less depressing stuff,” Grover urges, “like the new plastic alternatives. Or annie's clean power initiatives or even better: annie just told me that there's no way I have an alien with me!”

“She better not steal my discovery,” Juniper jokes. 

When they pull up to the meteor site, there's a caravan of black cars, larger than Junipers van, surrounding it. Percy can't even see Riptide. The entire crater has been tented up. 

Juniper is turn away by men in black suits. “Figures the government had to come and crash the party.” she mutters. “Then rounds on Percy. If anyone asks you're my research assistant.”

“okay,” Percy looks at Grover. “We will come back for my sword.”

Juniper scoffs, “we can't. They'll never let us through and if we tell them who you are and they actually believe us, they could like lock you up and dissect you.”

“Let's at least get pizza on the way back,” Grover tries. 

Percy bites the inside of his cheek, peering up at the stars and remembering where the site is so he can come back on his own. He is Perseus Jackson. And mortal men in suits will not stand in the way. 

  
  



	10. it's one thing to change mindsets, it's a whole other level to follow through

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> re-edited the fic so percy has water based powers bc it was bothering me lol

It's not hard to sneak out of Juniper’s place. Grover is up playing more video games in boxers and a t shirt, keeping his girlfriend company while she continues to go through her research plugging data into any test she can think will give her useful analytical data. 

Percy had made his excuses hours ago, claiming needing to sleep after having washed the dishes, wanting to help his friends out. They were feeding and housing him after all. He wasn't sure what Midgardian customs are, but he felt rude not helping out in some form. When he was a god again, he was so leaving them lots of gold and he'd give Juniper soil samples from different worlds. She loved taking samples. 

He slips out of the house and walks down the road back to where Riptide was. 

It's a long walk. 

But nice. 

New Mexico isn't cold. Not the way that Jotun had been--terrible and dead. But it's boring.

He gets bored walking down the one road in town with nothing to see in the night. Mortals had such limited vision. Percy couldn't see very much; he was careful to stay on the road. The last thing he wanted to do was get lost. 

The stars are high in the sky and he even recognizes the huntress diana, the only constellation he'd know by heart because he'd seen it so often on Zoe’s circlet. He misses his friends. 

Percy wishes he could just know that Triton had recovered and none of them had been blamed for his mistakes. It was honorable of them to have followed him into battle, loyal friends. But his mistakes should burden him alone. 

The tents are lit up as he approaches, leaving the road to track down Riptide. Soon, he'd be able to tell his friends just how much he loved them. Zoe would totally give him that classic I told you so look. Triton would call for barrels full of wine and mead. Tyson would hug him so tightly, lifting Percy clean off his feet. And Luke-

Percy wondered why Luke hadn't come. 

Had dad forbidden that as well?

Only Poseidon could keep Luke from his brother. He was sure of it. 

The tents are white and he can't see a damn thing through them, men in black suits patrolling around. Percy takes count of how many and slips past them as they do another sweep. He'd lived through more centuries then they could imagine; this was child's play. 

He recognizes the slope of the ground as a crater, letting it lead him to the center where he's certain Riptide will be. Percy's hand itches for his trusty sword. It's been years since he'd spent this long without it. He'd trained with the sword. Slain his first monster with it. It's weight is as familiar to him as another limb, less a weapon than an extension of himself. 

Eventually, there's no more sneaking to be done. Percy crouches on the ground, tucked in a corner behind a tent. It's time to go. 

Adrenalin buzzes in Percy's ears, the familiar rush of battle accompanied this time by an anxiety to set things right. He wasn't fighting for flowery this time. He just wanted to go home. 

He enters the maze of tents, balls his hands into fists and wastes no time striking down the mortal men in suits. 

They're well trained, strong and smart, but Percy has more experience and an urgency that carries him through. The tight plastic hall works in his favor, keeping the agents from rushing to attack him at the same time. The small space makes it so that they have to wait their turn, giving Percy an unexpected advantage as he doges their electric weapon and uses the latest suit to throw him against the next and keep moving forward. 

Forward to Riptide.

He marches on like the Spartan warriors that held the line as long as they could. 

Percy brawls methodically. 

There's no smirk on his lips this time. 

He doesn't feel drunk on his own abilities. 

Not when the men manage to land blows that take the air out of his lungs. Percy powers through even as he's sent tumbling to the ground, he gets back up, bracing himself for another round, another punch. He's so close. He can't give up now. 

He dodges a fist coming his way and sends the man stumbling with a kick to his thigh, before he punches the man's jaw. And he keeps doing it, the men change but the suit stays the same like the Atlantian warrior gear, shiny steel forged in underwater volcanoes emblazoned with Poseidon's crest. 

Percy does not give up. 

It's not long before he finds the tent over Riptide. His bronze sword glimmering even in the harsh midgardian light. 

There's sweat running down the line of his back. Mud staining his thrift shop jeans and he's not making Juniper or Grover wash them, he'll do it himself. Percy feels every blow intimately; they radiate a stinging pain he can push aside for now, but throbs to let him know it's there and not going away, like a particularly persistent manticore. 

But Riptide is right there. 

Just steps away. 

Percy closes the distance between them, his hand reaching out, fingers curling around the hilt and there's the leather he wrapped around the hilt from slaying the minotaur, the scratch from going toe to toe with a hydra whose teeth were just as sharp as they looked and none hells Percy was lucky to no have lost a chunk of himself to that beast, and there was the runes as clear as the day he'd first received Riptide, his dad proud though Percy could barely raise the sword. Percy grabs Riptide and pulls the sword out of the earth-

Only it doesn't budge. 

“No,” Percy utters brokenly. There was no way. . .had his dad cast him out for good? Was he just a mortal? Was he to never see his family and friends again? 

He couldn't help but think of the last words he'd said to his dad, called him old and weak and now he'd never see Poseidon again. 

He doesn't even try to dodge the electric weapons of the men as they surround him. Percy gives in to the sea of pain, fingers twitching as he slumps to the ground. He keeps gazing at Riptide, willing the sword to his hand as he had in the past. 

But Riptide doesn't fly into his hold. 

And his brother doesn't come for him.

Percy closes his eyes. 

** **

Annie arrives in a flashy red sports car just as Grover realizes Percy's run off to get his sword. Her hair’s grown out a little since he last saw his boss friend turning into tufts of blonde hair that fall into her eyes as she walks instead of her haphazard close crop. He grins as she walks up, “you just missed the alien. I'll explain on the way,” and herds her into Juniper’s ancient car. She'd redone the seats herself, upcycling upholstery and boy did he love this woman. She was probably the only person he'd met that had the same amount of enthusiasm for composting toilets as he did. Juniper actually had one. 

Annabeth blinks, confused before shrugging, “not sure what I expected when you said alien. Still not sure I completely believe you.”

Juniper waves her off, taking her eyes off the road, “you can look over my research when we get back. Oh,” she bites her nails, “you think the government will disappear him?”

“Don't worry Juniper,” Annabeth offers, “I'll kick their butts if you need me to get your little green man back.” 

Grover snorts. 

Juniper groans. “What is with you and Percy and wanting to kick everyone's ass? Also, the story’s that he's my lab assistant. A community college student that Grover knows from the co-op.” 

“Got it,” Annabeth nods as they pull up to the secret government tent facility. “Sure you don't want me to call Thalia.”

Grover shakes his head, “doubt the air force had anything to do here. And plus, if this is a government conspiracy we’re uncovering we don't want moles.”

“No way,” Juniper says, parking on the side of the road as the sun rises over the red terrain. “How long do you think they've been covering up aliens and atlantis? Fuck, ancient aliens was right!”

Annabeth rolls her eyes, “let's just go get your guy. I could use a strong cup of coffee.”

** **

Percy wakes up in handcuffs. 

The bright lights are awful on his sore eyesight and pounding head. Fuck. Fuck. 

His whole body tensed up in fight mode before he remembers. . .his shoulders slump down. Percy was human. Percy was stuck here. There was nothing he could do about it now. There was no second option or way to fight his way back to Atlantis now. He'd never spend nights with Tyson at a forge trying to make his old friend mess up (a feat he'd never accomplished), sing sea shanties with Triton far into their cups as fair maidens rolled their eyes, spend days in the mountains of Atlantis keeping up with Zoe as they tracked down firebirds and silver stags. Percy would never live to see his brother crowned king. He'd die in the earth long before humanity built their first interstellar spacecraft. 

The door opens.

He doesn't bother looking up. 

“So how the fuck did you take down my very highly skilled men,” a voice asks. 

A similar sounding voice adds, “who are you working for?”

“Connor! Good cop bad cop only works if there's one of each!”

“Well, Travis,” the former enunciates hard, “you can't always be the bad cop. Besides, you're just not a good bad cop.”

“Oof, you've lost me,” Travis quips back.

Percy's heart aches. He would recognize the banter of brothers anywhere. He looks up at his captors. 

The two brothers are nearly identical, only they wear their hair in different styles. One with a close crop and the other let's his blonde hair fall to the tips of his ears. 

He misses Luke. 

“There's our man,” Travis grins the way a gorgon does at the sight of fresh meat. 

“So,” Connor says with a wave of his hand, “who trained you? No rando can take down one of my men, let alone twenty three of them.”

“You made our guys look like mall cops,” Travis grins. 

“Who do you work for?”

Percy shrugs, lost in his own head.

Riptide was lost to him. And his home along with it. 

He barely knew who he was in Atlantis: the second son of the king, true, but what more could he be? What was he outside of Poseidon's son? Now he wasn't even that. 

Percy was nothing. No one. Just another mortal. 

“Come on man,” Travis tries once more, “give us something to work with before you're shipped off to be,” the man air quotes like Grover, “enhancedly interrogated.”

“Dude,” Connor nudges Travis, “it's not the bushfire wars anymore. And we’re not the CIA. That was the whole point of our career change.”

“Right, right,” Travis nods.

They turn their gazes on Percy once more.

He can't summon the care to say anything. 

“Let's give him a couple of hours to think things through,” Connor announces. 

They leave Percy alone.

Well, not alone. He guesses there's like a thousand guards outside with mortal guns pointed at him just in case he tries anything funny. But he can't see them. So he's alone. Alone in this tent room that has to be on the flimsier side and yeah. . .he's alone. 

Percy slumps back in the chair. 

“Posture,” Luke teases, appearing out of thin air in front of Percy. 

Percy jolts, before grinning. “Luke!” He'd never been happier to see his brothers cunning smile and gleaming hair that he spent hours styling. “What took you so long-,” he's about to start teasing him when his smile fades. 

Luke is all business. All Prince Luke and not the brother Percy knows. “Father is dead.”

“What,” he stammers, the words like a blow to the chest, crushing his rib cage in the burst of pain that consumes him. His dad, his king, his father. . .and the disappointed look on his face as he'd exiled Percy replays in his mind. The way he'd aged eons as he ripped his armor off along with his atlantian abilities, lines appearing in his features that Percy had never noticed before. Poseidon had been older than he could wrap his head around. 

But he still seemed immortal to Percy.

How could he be dead?

“I know,” Luke says, clasping a hand on Percy’s shoulder in cold comfort, “it surprised us all.”

Percy straightens his back, bowing his head at his king. “Let us go then. I'm sure you are needed back on Atlantis.”

Luke’s jaw tightens. “You misunderstand me Percy. I've only come here to let you know of father’s passing. My first act as king cannot be to undo the last king’s will. No matter how much it pains me to see you like this brother. Jotun demands your blood. By keeping you here, mortal, I can protect you from the frost giants, and avoid war with Jotunheim.” 

It's a bitter pill to swallow, but it was Percy's fault Laufey had decided on war. He should bear the consequences to spare his people. Percy might just be a simple human man now, but he would always be a prince of Atlantis and his people had to come first, all the people of the nine realms: frost giants included. 

If this was the price of peace, so be it. 

He nods, “I understand.”

“You do?” 

Percy sighs, “Do what you must as King, Luke, I trust your judgement.”

Luke looks pained, emotions swirling in his eyes like clouds shifting in the sky, “thank you. Brother.” 

And then, Percy is truly alone. 

** **

The door opens again, stirring Percy from sleep. He's cried, and lost all hope, before deciding to make the most of it if he ever sees Grover and Juniper again. The last few days had not been entirely awful. Grover had played video games with him, and Juniper had explained how her garden worked where she grew herbs and hoped her tomato and lettuce plants didn't shrivel up and die under the new mexican sun. They'd been kind and open and he liked explaining the skies to them. It had helped stave off the homesickness he was now in. 

Then he'd cried again for his dad. 

Percy could only imagine how distraught his mom must be. And he felt like utter shit not being able to help her grieve, to be there for her in her time of need.

And finally he'd slept. 

The twin suits enter again. “Man,” Connor says comfortingly, “cocaine’s a hell of a drug.” 

“Yeah dude,” Travis nods, “I really hope being out here in the middle of nowhere helps. Grover’s good people. They all are.”

“Having a support system goes a long way,” Connor adds, undoing the restraints, “but it doesn't matter if  _ you _ don't put the work in.”

Percy feels very stupid and confused, but he's had a hell of a night so they don't question it as they lead him down anther plastic tunnel and into another room with bright bright lights. He missed the subtle glow of the conjured lights back in Atlantis as well. They were never this harsh. 

Grover jumps up immediately, rushing over to him, “Percy,” the black man he's come to consider a close friend hugs him, “you're okay man.” 

Percy is stunned. It's only been a few days and they care this much. He doesn't deserve to know such good people. He's basically messed up and started a war and here's Grover braving this company of mercenaries for him. Grover who composts and does yoga but is not a warrior like Percy. 

He smiles, hugging his friend back. 

Juniper follows suit, hugging them both all while keeping up whatever pretense they're using to get him out, “you should've told us you were having a bad night.” 

“See,” Travis with the close crop of blonde hair says with a grin, “told ya we didn't waterboard him.” 

A tall blonde woman with hair the color of sand, worn short and messy, stands by the twin suits, rolling her stormy grey eyes. She has warrior written all over her, from the taunt stance and defined muscles to the sharp intelligence in her eyes. She's clad in loose blue trousers --all the better to move in-- and a black t shirt with a yellow smiley face and a drop of blood painted on the face. 

“Shut up,” Connor chastises, elbowing his brother, before scratching the back of his neck with his hand, embarrassed. 

Grover let's go of him. 

“Let's go,” Juniper says, “I think we all need to have a solid mental health day.”

“I'm not meditating,” the blonde woman grumbles. 

Grover snorts. 

“We believe in you,” Connor adds. 

“Just don't go breaking into any more government facilities my dude,” his brother adds. 

And then Grover’s shoving Percy into Juniper’s car as if the hounds of hel were at their heels. 

“I can't believe that worked,” Juniper sniggers, slamming her foot on the gas pedal. 

“Percy,” Grover introduces the fearsome warrior --he can already tell how great of a warrior she must be by the reverence in Grover’s voice-- “this is Annabeth Chase aka Iron Woman.” 

“A pleasure to meet you Woman of Iron,” Percy says, inclining his head respectfully. 

Annabeth looks him over skeptically and he can only imagine how much of a mess he looked. His chin stung and the mud on his clothes had dried, then there was the fact he'd cried himself to sleep and the news he'd received must show on his face. His dad just died, Percy was allowed to look like shit. 

“He looks human,” she finally responds, looking at Juniper with an arched brow. 

Juniper waves her off, “i'll show you the evidence when we’re safe in my lab. I don't trust the government.” She frowns before taking her eyes off the road and whirling on Annabeth, “or big corporations.”

“Fair enough.”

“So where's the sword,” Juniper asks, keeping them on track.

Percy slumps in the back seat next to Grover. He'd forgotten the reason he'd snuck into tent city in the first place, Riptide. A lot had happened since then. “I wasn't worthy.” He understood why now. The shoe had finally fallen and yeah, dad had been right as usual, Percy had messed up epically. “I almost caused-I caused a war. And this whole time I've been so focused on the first giants being monsters that I never wondered why. . .” he glances up at Juniper in the driver's seat, “Jotunheim is a dead world and the frost giants. . . I guess I saw their world and it fit the image I had of them as monsters but never considered that they were beings too and deserved a better world.” Percy sighs. He's so emotionally exhausted. 

He has no one but these two. 

So he adds, “and my brother finally came to let me know my dad’s dead and they're better off without me.” At least that way he could help make up for his mistakes. 

“That's rough buddy,” Grover says solemnly.

“Grover,” Juniper snorts, failing to hide her amusement at whatever joke Grover has said to lighten the mood. Lots of his jokes go over Percy’s head. 

“I thought gods were immortal,” Annabeth asks archly. 

He shakes his head. “Atlantians live and die like all other beings. We're just long lived and hardier than most that to others we appear immortal.” Percy had thought his dad immortal as well, until this morning. 

Annabeth nods, opening up just a crack to him, before looking out into the dessert. 

“Guess I wasn't lying about needing the mental health day then,” Juniper says sadly. 

Percy really loves his friends. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smh luke. he really could have had it all in this universe but he sees enemies where there are none and has jumped to conclusions. i feel bad for him imo. but that true for the canon version too. he's a very sympathetic villain and anti-villain. 
> 
> i also wanted percy and annabeth to spend more time together than just in the avengers so if/when they get together it isn't sudden and out of the blue.
> 
> sorry for taking forever to update, hopefully the next chapter doesn't take as long.


	11. the lost days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the og trio bond the chapter basically

Percy wakes up around the same time that Grover finally manages to pry Juniper from her garden. She's always up as the sun finally begins to rise so it makes sense for her to water and prune before bed even if it drives Grover crazy that Juniper stays up so late. He worries. He fusses. 

And Percy reaches for one of the shelves built into the house where he knows Juniper keeps the coffee. With Annabeth here, they go through an insane amount of the stuff. 

He's sort of figured out how to work the coffee maker in the last few days, Grover joking about how he really could be Juniper’s assistant with how he's making sure no one's mug is empty. It's something to do, something to keep his mind off things. The coffee makers a hassle to wash, all these parts but he doesn't know what to do with the crooked funnel Juniper made herself back when she lived on the coast and Percy doesn't know exactly where theses places are like New York and California and humanity had spread around the world, leaving the realm unrecognizable to him. 

Percy forces himself outside, figuring there's probably a weed or two he can take his emotions out on. They swing wildly from wanting to spend the day on the couch flipping through channels without picking something to watch or wanting to yell at the heavens until Chiron lets him back home. 

He takes his mug of coffee and asks the warrior Annabeth, who keeps similar hours to Juniper only she seems content to draw plans for different mechanical components, “can I sit here?” 

She's got a slim computer propped up on a rock as the sun paints the rocks with oranges and yellows. Annabeth plans out an entire city inNew Mexico with glass towers.. “Knock yourself out.” 

He's yet to see her armor. 

Percy’s curious after all Grover has said about her, a superhero. Clearly a title like God. God of the ocean. God of the skies. 

Every time he remembered his father was gone, it was like losing him all over again. 

He looks out over the horizon, the landscape flat unlike his home world, the rocks the color of sand, illuminated by the sun. Percy decided to go for a run. In this mortal body he could run himself ragged. 

Anything to take his mind off things.

After his coffee.

Percy likes his with plenty of agave and oat milk which he can also now make. It's not as good as when Grover makes it. 

“It reminds me of Afghanistan,” Annabeth comments out loud. “The endless sand. Flat. It's kind of nice,” she says voice guarded like she isn't sure what to do with him. Like many warriors gone too long, Annabeth Chase isn't sure what to do with herself when not fighting. Percy notices it first when she stands around the living room awkwardly, unsure what to do when Grover is grumbling about recycling and zero waste as he kicks Percy off the racetrack with a laugh, Juniper’ll look up from her work and wink at him before distracting her lover.

And Annabeth will stay watching. 

“There's no desert in Atlantis,” Percy replies honestly. He can't imagine ever lacking water, earth packed down without a cloud in sight. He's grown up surrounded by the sea. The smell of salt and brine thick in the air; fog rolling in during the mornings. 

“California's bush land,” Annabeth says with a crinkle of her nose as she recalls the information, “not exactly desert. But you forget about that in the bay. I guess it's fun to plan something from scratch but not give in to the boring grid line urban planning the western states got stuck with.” She bites her lip, turning away from her computer and looking at Percy, “what kind of city is Atlantis?” 

Percy shrugs. 

It wasn't like he had references she would understand. Atlantis was more compact than any city in the Nova Empire. The majority of atlantians living in the urban center to preserve the surrounding wilderness. 

And they certainly shared nothing with the hectic pass the Kree moved at. 

“A city?”

Annabeth rolls her eyes. “What a useful answer.”

Percy quirks his mouth in a smile. Zoe would like her. So would his brother. 

The smile fades as he wonders how his brother is doing. At least Luke had the warriors three to look after him. Luke wasn't alone. 

He had someone to watch his back.

But it should've been Percy. 

He was supposed to take care of Luke. 

He sighs, taking a long drink of his coffee. “The buildings glitter like gems in candlelight. They tower like the mountain and fall deep underwater.” Percy remembers Annabeths never seen his home so he explains, “it's built over water. Many building have a handful of levels under the surface and you can see the fish and mermaids swim past. Bridges and walkways connect everything and there's courtyards and trees.”

“An artificial island,” she hums thoughtfully.”

“Like an island.” 

Annabeth frowns, “how do you maintain the structural integrity? Waters the most corrosive thing on earth.”

“Magic,” Percy shrugs. Maintenance wasn't part of his duties. That was left to skilled magicians and builders. 

“There's no such thing as magic,” Annabeth replies dismissively. “What we call magic or supernatural is just advanced science we lack the technology to understand.”

It's his turn to frown. 

He didn't pay much attention in science or any class for that matter, Percy had never had the ability to sit and read and learn, he needed to do stuff, to run and jump and be out in the world, but he was pretty sure his tutors explanation for why and how Luke controlled the skies and he could influence water was  _ magic.  _

“Maybe,” he replies. Standing up, feeling the coffee start to do its magic and waking him up. Percy wants to move. 

“I’m going on a run.” He tells his current companion with an easy smile. She was Grover’s good friend and Grover’s approval meant she was gold in Percy's book too. 

“In jeans,” Annabeth says skeptically, raising a brow. 

He nods, setting the mug on the ground. 

Grover had found more than one mug littered around the property from Percy setting it down and forgetting all about it. 

This time he'd remember. 

Annabeth snorts, reaching for the mug he'd left on the ground. “I'm going to run tests on your saliva. . .alien.”

Percy groans, having been subjected to so many video clips of little green men that Grover claimed lived on Mars.

Ha! He wasn't born yesterday. Mars only held microorganisms. 

Percy picks a direction and goes for it. 

Mortal bodies were weak. 

He was weak. 

Oh well.

He'd have to build himself up from scratch.

** *** 

“No,” Juniper says slapping the dashboard hard, “No. No no, don't do this to me!” 

Percy jumps from the passenger seat, halting his adventure with the tablet and looking over at his friend worryingly. Perhaps her mechanical beast’s power cells needed to be recharged? 

Annabeth pokes her head forward, snacking on chips. “Want me to take a look at it?”

They were on their way back from town. 

The road was empty at this hour. 

Percy kind of liked the tranquility. 

Except for friday nights when people got drunk and honked their horns for no apparent reason as they drove. 

Juniper pulls onto the side of the road. “If you want to.”

Annabeth rubs her hands together with glee. “I'd love to. Engines are my favorite hobby.”

“You're such a grease monkey,” Juniper teases. 

She shrugs, “I like puzzles. And I still think you should try aquaponics.”

The red haired woman rolls her eyes, stepping out of the transport-car, he reminded himself. Percy had to get with the mortals if he was going to be here for gods only knew how long. He follows suit, figuring he can help out some. 

Juniper scowls, “My thumb is anything but green. I'm not going to make things harder for myself.”

“You should try talking to them,” Percy offers. Plants needed care and attention. His mom had often said that. Summer had been spent in the orchards with her as they picked fruits and vegetables and Percy had used his sword one to hack off a particularly ripe looking peach only to get his hands charmed slick for the rest of the day to keep him from harming another peach tree. 

Juniper giggles, “you sound like Grover! He’s always-” 

“playing his harmonica,” Annabeth teases good naturedly. 

She nods, red hair tumbling out of her bun, “in a city of guitar strumming stoners Grover played the harmonica.”

Annabeth grins, her whole face warming up and Percy catches his first glimpse at the person under the mask, the woman that is Grover’s friend. Her eyes are still very much like a bird of prey’s, brimming with a fierce intelligence in their stormy grey hue. “He wasn't like other boys?” 

Juniper laughs, standing back as Annabeth pops open the belly of the beas-car. 

It resembles a simple logic game that an Atlantian child might play with in Percy’s opinion. He'd been alright with those but he had a habit of tossing them away before he was done, growing bored. He could taste the fried metal in the air even if he couldn't yet see what part had been compromised. 

Annabeth places her hands on her hips after setting a small electronic computer against the engine. “This should tell us what's wrong,” she explains. “I think it's so messed up how many mechanics don't explain things to customers. Not everyone likes grease.” Annabeth smiles ruefully. 

“Or has time for it,” Juniper points out. 

Annabeth ignores the red head, tapping the screen and nodding as if the expected response,  _ piston rings, _ were exactly what she expected. “I can workshop this in an hour.”

“I don't doubt you Iron Woman,” Juniper teases, “but how are we and the car going to get back?”

Percy’s ears perk up. He and Grover had watched the news: had watched Annabeth on the news help victims of a tropical storm and land back in New Mexico just to crash on the couch before Percy was done making pancakes (mortal food for the win!) At this point, he wasn't surprised she was an excellent builder as well. He could already imagine her working alongside Tyson in the forges. 

Grover would love how environmentally friendly they were. 

Annabeth smiles sharply, before tapping on the thick steel bracelets around her wrists. “I'm on mark 17 now.” 

Percy shuts the belly, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he races back into the car. 

Juniper shakes her head, steps behind him, but smiling all the same. 

The armor starts reaching Annabeth as Juniper shuts the driver’s door, molding to her body. Metal chest plates and red gleaming boots adhere to the woman, to the superhero of this realm before she powers up, flying. 

Her mangled voice replies, “I'm going to push the car home.”

“We could've just called a tow truck,” Juniper points out looking out the window back at Annabeth. 

Percy pushes his window down all the way and shamelessly takes in the sight of the Woman of Iron. She's red like the desert when the sun sets with gold accents that match the shine of Annabeth’s hair in the sunlight. 

“What's the fun in that,” Annabeth calls back.

Percy laughs, “now this is what I call a ride!”

Earth wasn't all that bad. 

** ** 

“-and you left Katie all on her own!”

Annabeth narrows her eyes, insulted on her friends behalf but without any real heat as she snipes back. “Katie’s a big girl. She can handle being CEO if she put up with me all these years.” 

Percy does another push up as Grover sets another book on his back. They were messing around, again. 

He's always been out with a sword in his hand doing his duty however ambiguous that duty was. Even when he was with the warriors three, there was always some pressing matter, a village to rescue, a monster to slay, a quest to accomplish before drinking mead and finding the next adventure that would bring glory into their names. This-- spending time with his friends without an end goal just for the sake of it-- is a luxury he's never given himself. 

It's funny in a way that's really not. Percy’s always been doing what he thinks he should be doing, trying to find himself in saving people and smashing skulls, and findi enough glory that he wouldn't need a purpose that now that he has time to figure out what he, Percy Jackson not Perseus God of the Seas, wants he no longer feels the pressure to be a great man like his father. He's fine with soaking up the warm feeling in his chest even as the muscles in his core burn while he works out. 

“What's a CEO,” Percy asks, inhaling sharply as Grover stacks yet another thick folder on top of the growing pile. 

“Modern day king,” Juniper says without missing a beat. 

Annabeth snorts, but nods. 

“Is there any other way you have to travel,” Juniper continues her line of thinking. She was as curious and inquisitive now as she had been the first night, perhaps more as he had settled in and they had grown comfortable with each other. 

Percy nods slightly, “spacecraft. But the bifrost is much more reliable over such vast distances.”

Juniper smiles in wonder, holding up a copy of the sky the night of his arrival, “and what about these constellations? What are their names?”

He shrugs. “I am not sure. Astronomy was not my strong suit in school.” 

Juniper frowns, “I loved astronomy. I didn't take a class in it until college but I spent many nights with a telescope plotting out what planets and stars were visible that night even in the smogged up sky. It's how I got into astrophysics. I didn't just want to look at the stars, but travel among them.” Her features are aglow with childish delight as she talks about her passion. 

“I will take you there,” Percy offers solemnly, “among the stars as soon as I can. That way I can set you on my friends with your one thousand and one questions.”

Juniper smiles. “I would like that.”

The other man glances at Annabeth, taking a break from making Percy struggle to do a push up, “what Annabeth, no 'he's not an alien?’”

“Actually, I already tested his saliva. Did a radioisotope dating and it checks out.” The warrior woman admits. She kept surprising him at every turn, revealing yet another skill. Annabeth was not limited to fighting. It was admirable, her intelligence: her main weapon from what he could tell. It reminded him of his brother.

“You did what,” Grover chokes out.

Juniper immediately pounces on the new information, “can I have a copy of your results? I honestly should've thought of that. Also a limewater test might be good. I wonder what your exhalation is composed of. . .it can't be that different since you are able to breathe normally so our atmospheres compositions must be pretty similar as well but it never hurts to double check.

Percy calls it quits, lowering his knees before collapsing on the ground. “I would love to be your test subject. I think I need a job since I am to be here for the time being and God of the Seas isn't a job on earth” 

Grover laughs, “unless you decide to start a cult.” 

“Don't listen to Grover,” Juniper warns. 

“Are there many female warriors in Atlantis,” Annabeth asks, her head tilting up as she lost herself in her thoughts. 

Percy nods, shamelessly looking at the woman. In a simple cotton t shirt, endorsing something called Pantera, he could see the muscles in her arms even as they all relaxed in the living room. “Many. The huntresses are a renowned group of female warriors. My close friend Zoe Nightshade was trained by them. The Hesperides are our greatest guardians; keeping the city safe.”

“Looks like the greeks and romans were wrong after all,” Annabeth grins.

Percy nods. “Cultures take time to evolve and grow. Earth has changed more in the last thousand years then Atlantis has, but by the same token, generations have passed in this realm, but not on Atlantis.” 

Annabeth smiles. It doesn't soften the piercing gaze of her eyes, like an eagle spotting a mouse in the fields. 

Percy likes her all the more for it. 

** ** 

“You sure about this,” Percy asks. It's the wrong thing to say, fire igniting in Annabeth's eyes. This was supposed to be her time to unwind and yet here she was entertaining a sparring session with him. 

Annabeth grins sharply, “of course. Not going to miss my chance to take on a god while I might stand a chance.” 

He shakes his head with a laugh. 

It's evening and the air is still hot from the sun, but at least it doesn't burn his skin anymore. Annabeth stands a few feet away, calculating in sweatpants and a different t-shirt, a dim glow to her chest that Percy was unfamiliar with. She's sizing him up. 

He won't give her the opportunity. 

He closes the distance between them.

Neither of them have any weapons, so Percy goes for her legs, intending to tackle her to the ground. 

Annabeth doesn't even flinch, back hitting the ground as she wraps her legs around his torso, bringing him down with her. 

Pain erupts on his side as Annabeth moves, putting distance between them once more, but she's smiling, enjoying the rush Percy loves as well. “Aren't you supposed to be a god,” Annabeth teases.

“It's just a title,” Percy smirks, getting up, “like Iron Woman.” 

Then there's no time for talking. 

Like his brother, Annabeth fights defensively, drawing him out, making Percy tire himself out. It's a good strategy. Especially since they're not used to each other's fighting styles. Sweat beads on her brow as she weaves in and aims for his neck--intent on a quick clean win. 

Percy blocks, but keeps rushing her, not letting her gain the distance she wants. He keeps his stance loose, having learned more than once from Zoe hooking her foot around his knee and sending him tumbling to the ground, and throws hit after hit. 

His breath goes heavy, body tiring. It's a rush to be doing what he loves once more. Not the battle, but the challenge of a good fight.

Oh! 

Percy blinks at the revelation.

He'd had it wrong his whole life. 

It's only a second that he gets lost in his own head, realizing it wasn't battle or war he craved but the challenge of a worthy opponent--a worthy companion. Percy's had that and more in the warriors three, but none of them send his thoughts tripping over themselves as he finds his gaze wandering to the midgardian woman who takes advantage of a second to sweep his legs out from under him. 

Zoe, he thinks gratefully, hooking his ankle as he falls around Annabeth, any part he can reach, and making her tumble to the ground alongside him. 

She doesn't waste a moment, using her knee to pin him down at the neck. Annabeth is a quick and smart fighter, not caring about impressive movements when she can end it now. It makes sense, considering she hasn't trained her entire life like he has. 

Where Percy is looking forward to the fight itself, she just wants to win. 

Annabeth smiles, all teeth and he can see how puffed up she is with her win. “I guess you're not as good of a fighter as you thought you were.”

Percy shrugs, chuckling, “or you're just that good.”

She shakes her head, “I'm lucky you've been grounded. I'm only human.” Annabeth lets him sit up. “Without the armor. . .it's why I've been training. I don't want to be a sitting duck without my armor.”

Percy isn't sure what sitting ducks have to do with anything, but he replies, “Annabeth, I have fought besides mortals and all sorts of aliens alike, training and skills more than make up for brute force.”

“Well I know that,” Annabeth says with a soft smile, the way she smiled at her friends. 

Percy's chest warmed. Progress. “Of course, you're the smartest woman on earth.” 

“Did Grover say that?”

“Yes. And so did the news.”

They both laugh in the dying light. 

Annabeth sighs, running a hand through her short hair, tucking the strands barely long enough to be tucked, behind her ears, “I used to think I was, but it turned out I might be really good with machines but I missed so much going on right under my nose. I never wanted to hurt anyone, but. . .I wanted to help stop wars. But it turned out I was just selling the weapons to both sides. Getting a lot of good people killed who had nothing to do with the conflict.” She sucks in a breath. 

Percy can relate. He'd messed up a lot in the past few weeks. “I grew up in peace. It's all I've ever known,” he finally utters all the thoughts he's been sorting through. “and as the second son, I didn't really know what my place was. I wanted to be a warrior like my dad but I thought that I needed a war to prove myself in. That I’d never be a warrior unless I had been in war and I almost got my brother and friends killed seeking one out.” Percy laughs humorlessly, wrapping his arms around his legs as he stares out at the horizon. “I forgot my dad's advice. A wise king never seeks out war, and now I'll never see him again. I might never see the seas around Atlantis again.”

Annabeth reaches out, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly. “I don't think anyone realizes anything in time.For what it's worth,it's not Atlantis but San Francisco has some pretty good views of the ocean. If you'd like to come that is. . .”

“I would.” 

For once, Annabeth looks spooked, unsure as a newborn hippocampus. “Best two out of three,” she asks, standing up to her full height. 

“You're on.” 

  
  



	12. familiar faces

“-so it's like activating a wormhole,” Juniper clarifies. 

Percy scrunches his mouth, trying to remember all the different lessons he was sure he was taught at some point eons ago, “a bridge through the cosmos, yes.” It's Tuesday and that means Juniper has samples to drop off and collect at the post office. He has the tupperware containers on his lap to drop off at the community center while Juniper gets her work done. Percy also has some cash and reusable bags to get some groceries while they’re at it. Juniper tries to grow as much food for herself as she can, but even she can’t grow blueberries. Annabeth had mentioned something about the climate being wrong. 

“So your people harnessed a wormhole,” Juniper replies, sounding a lot like someone who had gotten way into their wine at their first dionysia. “That’s so fucking cool. I mean the energy required to open one-what do you use for energy?” 

Percy shrugs. “Schooling was not my strong suit but I think-I know there was energy derived from the oceans and dying stars. But I’m afraid I don’t know how.”

She nods, parking the car, “It’s fine. Annabeth’s really accelerated the clean energy industry with her. . .arc reactor. I’m more of an astrophysicist than an engineer. Meet back here in an hour?” 

Percy nods with a smile, “That’s good with me. Anything you have need of, from the market?” 

“Oh, can you get some of those hot cheetos? I’ve been craving them for a few days now and it’s making me crazy. . .like I know its plastic but also purity politics are so dumb. Like just put chips in biodegradable packaging? The future is now!”

He just nods, still not quite understanding humans and their plastic. 

Percy drops the food off at the community center which is really just a plain building across the street from the post office. There’s a couple people using the lap tops in the front, though these machines are much bulkier than the ones Annabeth and Juniper are glued to. 

Then he’s spending so much time looking through the mortal’s food at the market. It’s a clean and sterile place, so unlike the open air markets of Atlantis where food stalls would be set up nearby and the fish still twitched from how fresh they were, sitting on everlasting ice. The variation of food is also incredibly different. Mortals have so much food in cans and their plastic which Grover says is processed food. It suits Percy just fine, not being big on food making himself, but it does give him something to do and a way to give back to his friends. He wishes to show them the same kindness they have given him, but he has precious little to give other than the works of his hands. 

Percy has fun with the chips, choosing them for their bright colors more than the flavors after he’s grabbed the hot cheetos Juniper asked for. He double cheeks the list Annabeth had written down last night, and pays. 

Juniper is eating ice cream on the curb when he gets back the car. Percy only has two very overfilled bags, but the straps cut into his skin. He misses his former strength. It would have been laughably easy to carry groceries around then. 

Percy doesn’t complain, setting them down in the back seat. “And you didn’t get me any ice cream,” he teases Juniper. 

She shrugs. “Want some,” offering him a bite of her own. 

Without ceremony he takes a bite, then makes a face. “What is this?” It’s not flavorful, but incredibly cream-like. It sticks in his mouth. 

“Butter Pecan.” 

“No-,” he shakes his head. “That is not ice cream.”

“I like the savory flavors,” she protests. “I want to get an ice cream machine and make like purple yam ice cream and sweet corn. . .just ice cream in general.” 

“I would imagine having an ice cream maker means making ice cream,” Percy notes with amusement. 

“Shut up.” 

There’s three hulking figures in the driveway dressed up in armor and tunics. Annabeth stands opposite them with her own Iron woman Armor around her arms, hands raised, as her palms glow with light. 

Percy jumps out of the car as Juniper is parking. “Friends!”

Triton turns, lowering his triton, and breaking into a dazzling smile even as Tyson storms over and crushes Percy in a hug, lifting him clean off the ground. “Percy,” the cyclops cries, “You’re alright!” 

“Of course-put me down my friend,” he asks Tyson, only to have Zoe slap him hard on the back. “Why wouldn't I be fine?” Then he sombers up. “Other than the news about my father. . .” He tried not to think about it. There was nothing to be done, and mourning wasn’t the same when he was the only person in this world who knew his father. 

Sometimes it was just him and his loss in the middle of the night as he stared up at the adobe ceiling. 

“Well, for one, you are mortal,” Triton points out with a laugh. “But I am pleased to find you out of trouble.” 

Percy looks down at the ground, reminded of just how much he had messed up. “I-I am sorry for all that happened. I was wrong about everything. We never should have attacked Jotunheim. Their people-they deserve better, not to be condemned to war over the actions of a few.” 

“Nonsense,” Zoe says with a sad smile, “you did not hold a blade to our throats, we followed you willingly my prince. And we have followed you here now.” 

Tyson smiles at Percy, “ we decided that for however long you are exiled, we shall have your back as we do in battle.” 

Percy sort of wants to cry. No-yeah, his eyes are stinging with tears he has to blink away rapidly. Zoe would never let this go. He’s not about to spend the next hundred years listening to her tease him about this: ask if he really thought they’d abandon him. “Atlantis needs you more than I do, there's a war on the horizon.” Gods only knew if Luke had managed to bring them all back to their former truce. 

Even that truce was damaging to the Jotuns now that he looked back on it. 

Triton bellows a laugh. “You are mortal Percy, let us take care of you.”

“I might be mortal,” Percy allows, “but I am still devastatingly handsome,” he grins. 

Behind them, Annabeth snorts. 

His smile only grows. “My friends, this is the Woman of Iron, Annabeth. And Juniper, a midgardian scientist. And her boyfriend Grover. And these are the Warrior’s Three.” 

The warriors three tower over the midgardians, the same way Percy does. It is a mixture of their height, all over six feet, and the usual leather boots and armor out of one of Grover’s fantasy games that makes them seem larger than life. Zoe’s bow is strapped to her back, glowing faintly from its imbued magic. 

“A woman of Iron,” Triton asks skeptically. 

“It’s a title,” Annabeth explains, as her armor comes off her arms, flying off back to her room. “I’m a superhero,” she says flippantly, but her eyes glint with self satisfaction. 

“She's a warrior like us,” Percy explains. 

“More like batman than mythological figures,” Grover, cuts in with a easy smile, the braces around his feet visible as he’s in shorts. New Mexico was hot. A beautiful place in the sunset with pinks he’s sure his mother would like to paint, but hot. Even in the night it’s hot. 

“Anyone want pancakes,” Percy asks, “I’ve learned to make pancakes with blueberries-you’ll love it. Midgardian food is wonderful!”

“Percy, cooking,” Zoe says, “now this I have to see.”

**  
  
  
**

Percy is a messy cook. He uses a measuring cup for the flour and teaspoons for the baking power and vanilla and another bowl to mix everything in and a whisk that takes forever to stir everything together and then folds in the blueberries. 

Triton puts his triton down, and joins Grover in playing Animal Crossing. Tyson keeps jumping in with what Triton should dress his avatar in. 

Zoe leans against the counter watching Percy work. “Are those blueberries?”

“You know them.”

“There's bushes of them in the gardens my sisters tend to,” Zoe explains. 

Annabeth’s ears perk up. “So there's midguardian food in Atlantis. The soil composition and atmosphere must be similar enough.” 

“The queen is fond of using them for their color,” Zoe continues. 

“The blue food,” Percy smiles fondly. “I wasn't aware.”

“Nicking stuff from the kitchens isn't the same as working in them.”

“You don't work in the kitchens either,” he mouths off. 

Zoe rolls her eyes. “I'm not sure about your atmosphere. Or ours. But Atlantians are generally hardy. The temperatures on Jotunheim plunge below the freezing point of water, never warmer and we had only need of fur coats.”

Percy busies himself with flipping the pancakes. It was unending, the shame that flared in his chest whenever Jotunheim was brought up. 

Curiosity lights up Annabeth’s features, turning her starling grey eyes aflame with the same determination that she’d had when they had sparred. It softens her normally blunt exterior. “Are you cold at that temperature,” she asks, all scientist, “or does it not brother you at all?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m not cold. . .” Zoe says with a twitch of her mouth, dipping her finger through the pancake batter even as Percy tries to slap her hand away. Even her skin against his feels different, smoother and stronger. 

“Do you guys get frostbite?”

“Bitten by frost,” Percy says, with a half smirk half question as he furrows his brow. . . “Well, a frost giant's touch burns and sleeping in Jotunheim would be unpleasant if you camp outside, but the cold wouldn’t cause permanent harm.”

Zoe nods in agreement, stealing the pancake right off his spatula, not even wincing at the heat Percy can feel turn the skin of his wrist pink as he pours more batter onto the pan and flips the other pancakes. 

“Damn,” Annabeth says with a envy, “aliens really won the lottery then. I nearly froze half to death because I didn’t wear gloves when a snowstorm hit New York. I couldn’t even shoot an email.” 

“The internet letters,” Percy asks in clarification. So much had changed on midgard. Maybe his dad had thought about that when he'd exiled Percy here. Poseidon hadn't just abandoned Percy to some long forgotten corner in the realms. 

“Yeah. Those seaweed brain.” Her smile is all teeth. She's a warrior. She's a scientist and she blasts ridiculously loud music as she works on her laptop. They're all different sides of her; they're all the same side of her. 

“Seaweed brain,” Percy complains.

“You smell like one of those dirtbag surfers from Berkeley,” Annabeth explains with a easy laugh. “But I might just be a bitch about it because I suck at surfing. Now scuba diving. . .”

Zoe tilts her head thoughtfully, “what is scuba diving?”

“You take an oxygen tank,” Annabeth says, stealing a pancake of her own, sniggering when Percy makes a face at her, “and go underwater for a good long while. It’s peaceful. And everyones crazy about the coral reefs which-understandable, but kelp forests need love too.” 

“You cannot just hold your breath,” Triton asks, also deciding to grab a pancake. 

Percy sighs, and gives up holding back the tide of hungry friends that have descended on the kitchen. 

“For more than a minute,” Annabeth says, raising her brow. “No. But we’ve workshopped our way around those limitations.” 

“I would love to see your mechanical transport,” Tyson asks. “It’s quite different from our own from what little I’ve seen.” 

Annabeth practically beams, “you worked with machinery?”

“In the forges,” Tyson nods. “When I am not keeping these three out of trouble.” 

“Oi-” Triton begins protesting, “is slaying a hydra trouble, or a noble quest for fine heroes such as ourselves?” 

“It might have been nobler if you had kept it from crashing into the grain storage,” Zoe snarks. 

“And not been distracted by your reflection,” Percy adds. “You have to survive the quest in order to tell taverns about it.”

Triton puffs out his chest, “just doing my part in giving bards a story to tell.” 

“Can’t compete with Poseidon’s battles,” Zoe says wistfully. It casts a somber mood over them all. 

“I’m sorry about your king,” Juniper says, pouring everyone a glass of juice. 

“It cannot always be summer,” Tyson says sadly. “But the sleep of king’s does not last forever.” 

Percy drops the bowl. 

There’s not much batter left. It falls from the bowl, blueberries rolling around the kitchen floor as Percy’s mind rages. Sleep. Sleep, not death. Not death, but sleep. His dad-his brother-

“Percy,” Zoe reaches a hand out to him. “What’s wrong?”

Everything. 

Everything was wrong because Luke lied and Percy can’t understand why? Did he think it a way to spare Percy the truth. . .no-it made no sense. Luke wouldn’t hurt him-he just wouldn’t. But Percy has the proof that his brother already has. 

Luke had crushed Percy and not even blinked. 

It’s a betrayal he’d never contemplated; the thought too terrible to have crossed his mind. It must be why it hurts so much. 

“Luke said my father was dead.”

And comprehension blooms on Zoe’s face. 

Fuck. 

Did Luke really believe Percy to be a threat? Percy who’d never raised a blade against his brother. It’s hurt and pain and anger in his veins. 

He had to go back, expose his lies. 

“That little shit,” Triton mumbles under his breath. 

“There’s nothing to be done,” Tyson points out, “Luke is and has always been the heir. His word is law.” 

Except-, “not anymore.” Percy shakes his head. Was he really doing this? Wouldn’t this just restart war with Jotunheim? He couldn’t. 

“What do you mean,” Zoe swirls on him. 

“My dad tied the crown to riptide.” 

“A bunch of men in black are currently all over it,” Grover shrugs, in a ``what can you do about it? motion. 

“We must go to your mother,” Zoe tries. 

“No,” Percy says, shaking his head and taking a seat on the wood bench, “there is no point-my personal problems with my brother aside, Luke will be a good ruler. I cannot complicate things when things are as fragile with Jotunheim and my dad just now entering Poseidon-sleep.”

“Coward-,” Zoe spits, turning on her heel and furiously stomping out of the house. 

Triton looks between them both, but follows Zoe. 

“We should go after them,” Annabeth points out, cracking open a cold beer, “they don’t know much about Earth.”

“And they are not mortal,” Tyson adds. “You know what Zoe is like when she gets into a mood.” 

“I’ll only make it worse,” Percy says, voice cracking. That's all he seemed capable of doing lately. 

“If your brother lied to you,” Annabeth tells Percy gently, “I wonder what else he’s lied about.”

“It's not that simple,” Percy snaps. “I am exiled. I could not go home even if I wanted to, and believe me I do. But not at the cost of war.”

****  
  



	13. when brothers fight

Percy is nursing his own beer in the tense silence Zoe has left behind when Triton comes running back into the house, his weapon in hand with dust smeared on his cheek. “We have a problem!”

“What-,” Percy’s barely asking. 

“Luke’s sent the destroyer,” Triton explains in a rush. “It’s attacking randomly. I fear your brother means to kill you and ensure the crown for himself.”

“But it’s always been his,” Percy protests, still in denial. 

Triton looks at him sternly, “It appears Luke doesn’t see things the same as you.”

“Where’s Zoe,” Tyson asks, unsheathing his warhammer. 

“Protecting the people. Trying to stop the destroyer. Doing what handsome heroes like us do.” 

Annabeth looks at Tyson, “I’m coming with. This is my planet.” The buzz of machines fills the air as her suit comes flying to her, coating her body in thick armor. Her gold face plate falls into place, gold like her hair. 

“Then lets us be off, Woman of Iron,” Tyson says grimly. 

“I’m going to-”

“Percy,” Triton tries, “you cannot fight that thing.”

“I must try. This is all my fault. I will not hide behind my friends.”

“You are not hiding.”

“Triton, I’m going,” Percy says stubbornly. 

“If you must.” 

“Should I call shield,” Grover wonders out loud. 

“Don’t be dumb,” Juniper waves off, grabbing a video camera, “We’re driving you into town then? And don’t you dare protest Percy.” 

They come with. 

The scene in main street is out of the war books: the post office has been destroyed, building smashed in. Annabeth flies in the air, trying to drive the huge mecha out of town, but the destroyer smacks her away as if she were an annoying fly. Zoe distracts the destroyer, rushing it with her bow, aiming for its fiery mouth, and getting it away from Annabeth. 

Tyson take Zoe’s attack as a signal to attack too, slamming his warhammer at the giant metal suit’s knee, toppling it over. 

The destroyer falls, taking electricity poles with it. 

For a moment, there’s silence. 

Annabeth lands ontop of a building, proceeding with cautious hands outstretched and ready to fire. 

Percy jumps out of the car with Triton, who hoists his triton in front, ready to attack. 

Then the suit glows red like an inferno as the destroyer stands up. 

“Run,” Zoe screams, dashing behind an abandoned care. 

Triton pulls Percy behind a building as the destroyer engulfs the area into a fireball, charring the pavement with greek fire. 

Flames still dance when Triton lances himself at the destroyer, hurtling the triton into the machine’s sternum, and ripping open the metal plates. 

Annabeth launches rockets into the opening and Percy feels helpless and Zoe gets up once more and tries to end the destroyer. She runs, gaining momentum to send her flying through the air and slamming a celestial bronze arrow into the mecha’s head, and landing gracefully behind it. 

Ignoring Triton, the destroyer turnings its head around completely, and sends a burst of fire straight at Zoe. 

Annebeth rushes, slamming into the machine, and keeping it from roasting Zoe alive. 

The destroyer knocks Triton across the street, sending the warrior slamming into a building, shattering glass. 

Tyson grabs Zoe and drags her away, seeking shelter behind the remains of a wall. 

And all the while Percy cowers behind a car. 

If his friends, with all their weapons and strength couldn’t bring it down, if Annabeth with her technology stood no chance, then what was Percy supposed to do. How could he stop that thing.

He steps out from behind the car. “Luke! I don't know what is going through your mind brother,” he yells at the destroyer, even as Tyson shakes his head, begging him to hide, “but here I am.” Does Luke really believe Percy would take the throne from his own brother? It was Luke that was trained in diplomacy and war and state while Percy stealing fleeces from giants just to see if he could. 

The giant metal weapon turns on him. 

He keeps going. They're wrong about his brother. Luke is-he's hurt, but he wouldn't hurt Percy. They're brothers. 

“Luke, whatever it is brother. There is no need to bring midgard into it.” Percy hopes he knows his brother as well as he thinks he does. He stops just a handful of step from the mecha. 

The destroyer had its covering lowered, the face that burns everything exposed, but it doesn't glow red. 

Instead, it turns back to look at the destruction. 

Percy lets out a sigh. 

Then the destroyer sends him flying. 

He doesn't know if it's his ribs breaking or his heart that hurts so much he can't breath. Percy lands with a splat onto the pavement and gods he can't raise his head as his vision swims red. 

Well, at least Luke would leave this realm alone now. 

Fuck-Luke was going to be a terrible king. 

It breaks what's left of his heart. Luke was the best of them. Why had it come to this?

“Percy,” Annabeth lands next to him, sending rockets at the mecha. It doesn't turn back, knowing its mission was complete.

“I'm fine,” he grits out with a smile, even as the metallic taste of blood fills his mouth. 

“You-you idiot,” Annabeth says. 

“It'll leave earth alone now.” 

“So not the point seaweed brain.”

Percy smiles, looking up at the heavens. 

And then the rush of water fills his ears, like the current swelling into a storm as the skies over New Mexico darken, clouds grey, blocking out the summer sun. He can smell the salt, the brine, and he grins as thunder cracks in the sky. 

Annabeth steps back, watching in wonder.

Water pours down from the skies and Percy breathes in the scent of ichor before he rises, Riptide flying into his hand as the armor of a warrior and all it implied takes form, power rushing back into Percy like the tide going out. For a second he is every drop of water hitting the desert, the moisture in the air, the beads of sweat on Annabeth’s brow, and then it the tide comes back in and he's sending a torrent of water at the destroyer. 

Percy raises riptide and sends daggers of ice at the mecha. It is greek fire-but water always wins. 

He concentrates the storm on the destroyer, summoning a flood as he stabs the mecha through the head, and then pulls with the night of a wave sending a ship crashing against a cliff. The destroyer grows red, angry and all fire, but Percy can hardly feel it, now in the eye of the storm. He's not heir or king, he doesn't even care about being a warrior anymore--protecting these people is enough for him. 

Protecting his people. 

Percy sends the destroyer flying, the force breaking the plates of metal apart as he dissipates the storm, coming to stand in front of his friends once more. “We must stop Luke. I do not know what has gotten into him, but it doesn't bode well for the nine realms.”

“We are with you Percy,” Triton sighs. 

Tyson nods, “there are answers to be had.”

“I've always wanted to wipe the smirk off his face,” Zoe says sadly, “just not like this.” 

“Percy,” Juniper cries out, “be careful. Not everyone's as nice as me.”

He smiles, “I will be back my friends, and take you to Atlantis like I promised.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Grover says with a laugh, “go be a big dumb hero.”

Annabeth pops off her faceplate, looking every bit the protector of earth she is, “San Francisco remember,” with a grin. It's the type of smile that holds the promise men would spend ten years to return to. Percy only hopes he can knock sense into his brother and see the kelp forest of her home. He wants to spar with her again, and create a rainbow from water mist just because he thinks it'll make her laugh from how cheesy it is. 

He nods. Then lifts riptide, “Chiron, to Atlantis.” 

The bifrost leaves them in the palace courtyard. 

Percy heads to the King and Queen’s chambers. The warrior’s three are at his back, weapons drawn even as he tries in vain to believe this was a misunderstanding, that there was still a way to fix this without fighting. 

Luke sits at their father’s side, face twisted with an emotion that Percy can't name, has never seen on his brothers narrow features. Luke might have been red faced from anger or sorrow--he wasn't sure which. Sally has a hand on his shoulder, whispering comforting words. 

“Why did you tell me dad was dead,” Percy asks, voice breaking with the weight of betrayal. His brother had tried to kill him. Why? Why-

Luke looks up, his face closing up like a clam, features taking on an unreadable neutrality. “You shouldn't have bothered coming back. . .brother.”

“You sent the destroyer to kill me and our friends,” Percy says, the words more for his benefit than his brothers. It was hard to swallow, after a lifetime together, that his brother wanted him dead, might want him dead even more now that Percy had riptide, and the throne he had never reached for. 

As far as he was concerned, Luke could have it, only, what his brother had done was unforgivable. 

The warriors three fan out around the room. 

Luke stands, the older brother, taller and leaner, the better fighter with all the lessons of strategy the god of the air relied on. “I was only finishing what father started. He's finally seen you for the disappointment you are.”

“Luke,” Sally whispers, horrified. “You-you didn’t-.” Heartbreak is written on her fair features, so much like his brother’s. 

Percy flinches. It doesn't matter that he knows Luke is lying, twisting his words like a diplomat to get what he wants, the hurt is still real. He had been exiled. But he had deserved it. He was man enough to take responsibility of his actions, even if it had almost caused a war, because of the gravity of almost causing a war--Percy wouldn't be such a war dreaming fool again. “You must stand trial for your crimes.”

Luke laughs humorlessly, “King’s don’t go on trial! Our father didn’t.”

“Dad didn’t do what you have done.”

“No he did far worse,” Luke snarls, lifting gungnir to point at their mother, “tell him! Tell him why father never loved me! His heir, what a sick joke.” 

Sally looks on the verge of tears, looking past the weapon, and into her son’s eyes, “your father loves you. . .his firstborn.”

Percy steps closer, not liking the way Luke had a weapon pointed at their mom. But Luke wasn’t exactly stable, and he feared what his brother would do if startled. “Luke-”

“Shut up Percy, you know nothing. You’ve always been a fool, it’s pathetic.”

“Luke,” Sally tries.

“Tell him!” 

His mom looks at Percy, meeting his sea green eyes, “Your dad and I, we adopted Luke . . .from Jotunheim.”

“More like stole,” Luke utters lowly, voice cracking as his eyes water despite the flare of red in his cheekbones, red as blood, ready to spill blood. 

Understanding fills Percy like dread clogging his veins. “What,” he says out loud, processing. “That would make you,” he says, meeting Luke’s furious gaze.”

“A frost giant,” his brother replies bitterly. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Sally tries, wiping tears from her eyes. 

“Luke,” Zoe says gently, “I’m sorry,” she says, heart breaking for the painfilled prince. No one deserved to stumble across deep dark family secrets like this. 

“It’s alright,” Tyson adds, lowering his warhammer. He more than anyone here, as a cyclops knew what it was like to be different. “We are not our people.”

Luke ignores them both. 

“A frost giant,” Triton flinches, “on the throne!”

Luke just watches, waiting to see how Percy will react. 

“No. . .you are my brother. . .” Percy doesn’t understand why his parents would lie. Why Poseideon would think it okay to feed them stories of the monsters of Jotunheim if this was true. 

“I assure you,” Luke smiles cruelly, the color of his skin deepening into the blue of glaciers for a moment, “it’s very true.”

Percy looks away, “how. . .how can this be true?” He asks Sally, “I know my brother. . .and he’s. . .”

“We thought it best,” Sally explains. 

Luke scoffs, “they didn’t want you to know what I really was.”

“A monster,” Percy finishes in a whisper, more to himself then to anyone else. That’s what they had been raised to believe about the frost giants. Luke must be in tremendous pain and confusion. 

It didn’t excuse his actions. 

His brother flinches. “Is that what am,’ suddenly sounding very small. 

“No-”

“Your words Percy.”

“I didn’t mean them like that.” 

For a second, Luke falters, his grip on gungnir sagging. Percy hopes he’ll back down. Instead of taking his brother’s hesitation and striking a blow, he waits. This can end here. He won’t be the one to start this fight. Luke was still his brother, even if he deserved punishment for attempted murder all the same. 

Luke’s blue eyes stare at Percy, a man lost. 

And he hopes-

Then Luke’s eyes grow cold, mouth curving into a terrifying smile.

“Now,” Luke says and he seems to shine with all the vitality of the sun, “if you'll excuse me, I have to destroy Jotunheim.”

A gust of wind slams into Percy. The whipping winds of a storm toss him against the window, sending him plunging from the palace. Oh, well, Percy thinks, as he falls hundreds of feet, crashing into the roof of a building below, knocking the air from his lungs. He's tried.  _ He'd tried.  _

He was left with no choice but to stop his brother by whatever means possible. 

Luke couldn't be allowed to destroy a planet, a people, a culture. Regardless of the bad blood between their people’s, the Jotuns were still a part of the nine realms, were still his people, were like Luke.

Percy now saw that his father had failed the Jotuns by keeping them isolated and feeling left out of the prosperity of the rest of the nine realms. His dad had failed Luke by keeping this from him, had hurt him and made him want to hurt others the same way. He would not fail them. 

He gets up. 

Sees the glowing light of the bifrost activating, and jumps into the watery canals that thread their way throughout Atlantis. 

Jotunheim would not be destroyed on his watch. 

Percy unsheathes riptide as he enters the Bifrost gate. 

The roots of Yggdrasil have set into the bifrost, solidifying and expanding as the bridge remains open; Luke had opened the gate with their fathers weapon, now in his hands. Even that was wrong. Luke's sword had always been backbiter.

“You can't stop it,” Luke snarls, “the bifrost will build until it rips Jotunheim apart.”

He doesn't hesitate, swiftly running and swinging his sword, ready to cut the tree down even if it destroyed the bifrost. 

Luke blasts Percy back with Gungnir, sending him sprawling. The light of the bifrost glows brighter. 

He gets back on his feet. “Why have you done this?” Percy cries. Luke had everything--didn't he? A family, a place in the nine realms, friends. . .there was no need for the destruction he had started. Being a frost giant changed nothing. They could get past this. Percy would have ceded the throne to his brother; he only wanted riptide. 

“To prove to father that I am a worthy son, the only son he could ever want,” Luke spits, “when he awakes, I'll be the one who saved his life. I will have destroyed that race of monsters. And there will be no doubting my loyalty to the throne!” 

“You can't kill an entire race,” Percy pleads, “just for your own vanity. They’re our people!”

His golden brother scoffs, “why not,” he asks sarcastically, his smile more of a grimace now. “Just over a month ago you were ready to start a war with them! Slaughter the monsters,” Luke states harshly. “What is this newfound love for the frost giants? You were ready to kill them with your bare hands, you hypocritical brute!” 

Percy doesn't flinch. It was all true. But then, he had been raised on stories where the frost giants were evenly baby eating monsters and his dad raced in to save the day. It wasn't an excuse, but he was ready to do better.

Trying was all anyone could do. 

“I've changed,” Percy replies softly. 

Luke smashes the staff into Percy’s abdomen, “So have I,” his brother grins. With a flick of his wrist the staff’s blade emerges. 

There would be blood. 

“You've always been a worthy son,” Percy tries, using the side of Riptide to block Luke's next hit, holding the blade from cutting into his arm. “Why would you need to prove yourself to father? He made you heir! Damn the rest of it. It doesn’t matter!”

Luke snarls, “lies!” Which makes no sense to Percy, as he strikes fast, again and again, trying to draw blood. Percy needs to put distance between them. His brother has always been the better fighter--with backbiter. Hell, he actually stood a good chance here. 

“It’s not the throne I care about!” Luke knocks Percy down. “Not anymore,” he swings, aiming for Percy's head. 

Percy narrowly rolls out of the way as the blade slices into the ground. 

“I only ever wanted for father to look at me as he looks at you,” Luke roars, charging once more, closing the distance between them as Percy raises Riptide, still on the defense. 

Luke was making no sense, still fighting with a sword despite the fact he was fighting with a longer range weapon. He shouldn’t be closing this much distance. 

Percy knocks Luke aside with all his might, then moves, putting the full distance of the room between them. His back’s against the wall, but there’s more pressing problems. Like Luke’s murderous gaze. “I will not fight you brother!” Percy yells over the sound of Yggdrasil growing and destroying Jotunheim. He had to cut the tree down. 

But if he lunged now, Luke would like as not stab him in the back. 

Unhinged, Luke yells, “I’m not your brother,” and he swings wildly. The staff leaves a gorge in the wall where his head was as Percy dives out of the way, spinning to face Luke again, riptide raised to block. “I’m just a monster!” 

The blow rings down to his bones as gungnir strikes riptide, metal against metal clashing together. 

“Luke, this is madness!” They needed to talk, not fight. But Percy had realized his brother was beyond reasoning. He was more lost in this moment than Percy had ever been, the second son, the spare, left to make his own way in the universe only there were so many paths and choices to make and he never could just settle. 

He doesn’t think of that now. With riptide in hand, clenching his teeth as he waits for the next attack as Luke takes a step back, pacing around in agitation like he wants to yank out his hair, he’s Percy Jackson and that’s enough. He’s not his powers or title. 

What matters is his bone deep desire to help people with sword or with something as simple as helping Juniper carry around tupperware. 

“Is it,” Luke roars, tears falling from his eyes, “Is it madness?”

When Percy doesn’t reply, Luke lunges again, “Well! Is it madness?” The staff catches against Riptide and Percy loses hold of the sword. Luke sends riptide flying across the room. 

He raises his arm to shield his face but Luke simply slams him against the floor with the staff, half lost in his own thoughts, “What happened to you on earth,” Luke sneers, “that’s turned you so soft! Don’t tell me it was that pathetic group of measly humans.” 

Percy looks up at Luke, calling out to riptide without moving his hands--nothing as obvious as that. 

“Maybe,” Luke snarls, “when we’re finished here, I’ll pay them a visit myself.” 

Riptide slams into Luke. Percy wraps his hand against the pommel of the sword, going on the offense, he strikes at Luke’s arms, hoping to disarm his brother. 

His brother sweeps at Percy’s legs. 

Percy is forced to stepback, before lunging for Luke’s shoulder. He needs to end this. He had to save Jotunheim. 

Luke flies at Percy, slamming into him, and he keeps going as they barrel through the walls of the gate onto the rainbow bridge.

Percy doesn’t hesitate, summoning the water below them. 

Luke sends another gale of wind, but Percy is ready, water forming a shield around him. With a flick of his wrist, the water shoots out like spears at Luke. 

Luke flies into the air. 

This was all a distraction, Percy realizes, as Luke flies teasingly close, just out of reach. The more time Percy spent fighting Luke, the more destruction the bifrost wrecked on Jotunheim. He had to stop fucking around and-and destroy the bifrost. 

If Percy destroyed the bridge, it would destroy the bifrost as well. 

Percy summons all the seas around him, the waves growing and growing and growing even as Luke laughed maniacally, lost to the world. It hurt to see his brother like this, but he needed to buy himself time, seconds. Then he could reason with Luke. 

He had to stop his brother. 

He didn’t want to kill him. 

Even now. 

The ocean crashes onto the bridge, wiping Luke from the skies. 

But soaking wet, Percy doesn’t care. The water has always been a second home to him, his element, his power. He grabs riptide, feeling the might of the seas in the roar of the waves around him, in the salt thick in the air, and plunges riptide into the bifrost. 

Cracks spread through the bridge, like fissures in ice, before it starts to splinter apart,breaking, breaking. The light dims and Percy knows Jotunheim will survive. Then he goes under the waves he’s summoned, relaxing into the watery hold. 

_ Wake up wake up wakeup wake up! _

Percy opens his eyes not a moment too soon, grabbing onto the edge of Atlantis as the water rushes off into space, chunks of what was the bifrost and bridge fall. He looks over the edge into space, speckled with the light of far off stars and distant worlds. 

He looks over the edge and sees Luke, holding on to the edge of a cliff.

“Brother,” Percy yells, reaching, trying to find a way to save Luke. He deserved prison, not death. Never death. Though Percy’s heart bled from the fresh wound of betrayal, he would never wish his brother death. Luke had to face justice. 

Luke looks up, a broken man. “I could have done it! Why didn’t you let me do it?”

“They’re not monsters,” Percy yells, grabbing hold of gungnir and pulling Luke up. “And neither are you.” 

Luke gets a funny expression on his face. “Dying at the right time,” he shrugs with a smirk, and let's go. 

“No!” Percy screams, still holding his father’s staff. But Luke is gone. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> percy jackson will return in the avengers


	14. end credits

Jason wakes up as disoriented as he has the past year and change. His new body always takes him by surprise. Erskine’s serum had done a number on him. 

He blinks away the blurriness from his eyes, his hand already reaching around for glasses he no longer needs, and then he’s awake. 

He’s in a room he doesn’t recognize, listening to a baseball game instead of news of the war. None of it makes any sense. The hairs on the back of his neck stand as he remembers being in the mountains. There had been snow and a mission and. . .he gets up, wary as he looks out the window, into the new york streets. Only they’re washed out. 

Jason looks at the radio, wishing he was at the game again, before everything had gotten so complicated, so messed up. 

Maybe he is back. The howling commandos must have dragged his body from the snow. And. . .he wonders if Bianca is here somewhere, or still back in Europe, fighting the good fight. 

The tentative hope that things are finally going his way gets crushed when a redhead comes in. It’s dyed which puts him on edge. What black market did she get the dye from? And her tie must be some fashion statement because it’s no army corps issue. 

German, or Russian? 

“Morning,” she says with a smile even as he can’t help but look at her bosom. Even Lupa knew how to get the shape right, aided with the conical brassieres. 

He still blushes, even if he is being clinical, he doesn’t want to be a pig about it. 

“Or should I say afternoon?” It’s a flawless american accent. So he is in america. Or she’s a very super spy. 

There’s no harm. He can always fight his way out if it comes to it. “Where am I?” 

“You’re in a recovery room. In New York,” the woman smiles. 

Jason looks her over. She seems genuine enough, but then, they all did before they were ready to attack. Spies. Deep cover agents. 

_ “The dodgers take the lead eight to four,” _ the radio announces. 

It clicks. This game--he’d been at this game. It had been 1941. Back before. . .before he’d shipped out and left Jason alone in New York, left him behind because no one wanted Jason in the army when he could barely see with his glasses, barely breathe without a pharmacy of medication. 

Jason looks around the room. A fake. 

“Where am I really,” he asks the woman. 

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” she replies, still smiling. 

“The game. It's from may 1941. I know because I was there.” He holds her dark gaze, waiting to see what she’ll do.He doesn’t want to hurt anyone if he doesn’t have to. 

The smile disappears from her dark red lipstick. 

So she does know. 

Jason stands up off the bed. “So I’m going to ask you again, where am I?”

“Captain Grace-”

“Who are you,” he takes a step closer. 

The door opens and guards in sleek black military attire enter. There’s only two. The people running this show must not know who he is. 

They rush him, and Jason tosses them across the room. Only, instead of slumping over, they go right through the wall. The thin wall that turns out to be little more than cheap compressed wood. Flimsy. Huh. 

Jason sticks his head out the hole he’s just made. It’s a wide empty room. Shit. Things were bad. Time to escape and find answers then. Jason jumps out of the room, running for the door before the two men can get up. He’s more disoriented than he was when he woke up. 

“Captain Grace, wait,” the woman calls out, but he’s through the doors. 

Light streams in as people in strange clothes mill around, walking purposefully down the hall. There’s floor to ceiling windows showing how close to outside he is. 

“All agents, code 13!”

Eyes turn to him, out of place in a white cotton shirt and khaki trousers. 

Jason doesn’t wait, bolting for the first door out the building he spies. He uses his own momentum to slam the men standing in his way to the ground. They’re not drawing guns, no reason to escalate things. Not that he had a weapon. 

He slams glass doors open, running out into the street. People were good. People meant he could disappear into the crowd. 

Only, he looks up and around as he steps into the street, a sleek new taxi honking at him as he runs, putting distance between his captors and him. The buildings,the smell, the lack of people looking at him for more than a second despite him running like a lunatic among the cars, it’s New York alright. Only, this New York isn’t at all like his own: the New York he remembers. 

It had only been a year, two, not enough for things to change this much. 

Huge illuminated billboards flash in the daytime, advertising shows on broadway he’s never seen. Huge displayed of  _ Coca Cola _ are up on Times Square and the people. . .the people continue to be dressed funny in denim and jackets, like nothing he’s ever seen. 

Jason looks all around and recognizes nothing. 

Panic, like an asthma attack, seizes his chest. 

What the hell happened? 

Black cars roll up to him, more guards rushing out and pushing back the crowd that’s finally grown interested, raising sleek boxes up to their faces as they watch.

Jason bets they have answers. Answers he need. 

“At ease soldier,” a brown older woman calls out as she walks up to him. She’s wearing black trousers and a matching black peacoat. He can just make out the eggplant turtleneck peaking up out of her coat. Her dark hair camouflages into her coat, a brain that goes down to her shoulders. 

The woman walks like she’s in charge, the same habit politicians have, and at the difference the other agents show her, Jason knows she is in charge. They must have won the war if a brown woman was in charge here. 

Fuck the nazi’s. 

No guns are drawn, he notes. 

He turns to her, waiting for answers. 

“Look,” she says with some amusement in her eyes even as her lips are drawn. She doesn’t look so much as observe him as one might a new recruit. “I’m sorry about that little show back there but,” any lingering amusement in her brown eyes flattens to nothing, “we thought it best to break it to you slowly.” 

Jason’s breath comes out sharp. It’s not so much that he can’t breath, blood pressure dropping, but that he’s still falling into the ice, still falling from the train. 

“Break what?”

He has no guesses. 

The attractive older woman doesn’t flinch, her gaze steady as she studies Jason, “you’ve been asleep Cap. For almost seventy years.”

It’s not so much that he’s falling. Jason’s not panicking. There’s no reason to. Not when. . .he knows what's going on and there's no use in crying over spilled milk. There’s no rationing anymore. 

But, seventy years. . .Jason looks away from the woman who must be something the United States government. Seventy years. 

No, Jason just feels the loss like a sudden blow. As if he’s looked down only to find that he’s arm had been missing this whole time, he just hadn’t noticed. Lupa, Octavian, Magnus. . .even. . .they were all gone. Or old. 

Old was better than dead. 

Either way, they’d lived their lives. 

The world had left him behind. 

He’d gone to war; he had nothing when he returned. 

“Are you going to be okay,” the woman asks in a tone that makes Jason think she’s not used to asking after internal issues like this. She’s a leader. Feelings and emotions are not her forte. 

Jason doesn’t feel okay at all. But what can he do. Time travel? He swallows back the urge to curl up on the ground and cry. This wasn’t the time. “Yeah,” what else could he do but go on, “yeah. . .I just,” he looks around at the people passing by, having lost interest again and going on about their lives. “I had a date.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> would be way more meta of me to leave this as a comment on my own fic to stay true to the bonus in the know feel of an mcu end credits scene but anyway up next. . .captain america


End file.
